The Only Way Past is Through Part II: Happy Birthday to Me

 (Q: What does the following have to do with dealing with my father’s recent death? 

A: I’m not sure. I know only that this is a reflection on my own mortality and it seemed important this week. And yeah – it’s a little morbid. Cheers!)

My Grandma Morse’s birthday is about six weeks before mine every year.  And for some reason, I always take great pleasure in teasing her about getting another year older.

“Grandma, how does it feel to be so old?” (giggle, giggle…)

She never disappoints.

 “Well, you know, it beats the alternative.”  I’m not sure how old I was when I figured out what it was she was saying, but I thought it was kind of hysterical.  “It beats being DEAD!” (Ha-ha-ha!!!)

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Did I mention, I’ve always had a fairly dark sense of humor?

I still smirk, but I don’t really laugh anymore.  Maybe it’s because I’m finally gaining some perspective.

This year, I was lucky enough to have my birthday fall on an actual Saturday!  Yeah – I know.

“Hillary, at your age, why would you be so excited about another birthday?  Aren’t you over it by now? Doesn’t it feel weird to be so old?”

Well, this year was kind of special.  I realized it the closer I got.

A little over a month ago, I moved into a new apartment in NYC.  True to form of most NYC apartments under $2,000/month, my living space is – hmmm – well defined.  Okay – that’s a euphemism for limited.  But it’s cozy, kitty friendly, has good access to street parking, includes a really cool roommate that I’ve known for years, is in a nice neighborhood with good train access and has a bomb-a$$ backyard! 

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So, without thinking too much, my roomie and I planned an outdoor cookout-style birthday party.  The impending party date gave us some good goals for things like, getting the lawn mowed, getting a new patio umbrella and fixing the gas grill.

But as the party got closer and our checklist grew shorter, I started to remember the last time I tried to host a Saturday backyard cookout birthday.

It was exactly ten years ago in last weekend.  I was living in a house in Edgewater, Florida on a 1/3^rd acre lot, so I had a pretty sizable back yard.  Of course, no one wants to be in a backyard in Florida in June! But I’d acquired citronella tikki torches and equipped my grill with a new propane tank, even though the bulk of the party was going to happen in the air-conditioned house FILLED with all the party fixin’s! Meat to grill, side dishes galore, (I’m pretty sure it was a fajita bar) and so many beverages!!!

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I’d invited a ton of people with the focus being my improv troupe and their friends.  In fact, earlier that morning, a few of us were guests on a locally produced kid’s radio show to promote our pending 1^st Birthday Show (now a standing RAI tradition!)

I made it to the show and got through the morning, but after our interview/on-air performance, we were ‘brunching’ at D.B. Pickles when I really started to crash. 

You see, I had just completed six months of super-aggressive chemotherapy for a nasty little sarcoma in my left foot.  After four of those months, I had surgery that not only removed the tumor, but amputated a good chunk of what had once been my best foot when it was forward.  I was about eight weeks post op at the time.

I was on a walking boot, so I was getting around okay – off of pain meds, and driving again.  But that day, my immune system just – well – coded I guess. 

I’ll spare the super disgusting details, but my condition took a nasty downturn and I wound up laying on a couch for a while, feebly mumbling directives to a small group of my friends who swooped in to save the day by prepping the food and finishing the set-up.  Eventually, when it became obvious that I wasn’t going to be able to “rally” and join the party, I went and hid out in my bedroom, so at least my friends could enjoy themselves without having to look at me.

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I was pretty pathetic that day.  I couldn’t get fluids down, but my eyes kept watering and I couldn’t stop drooling.  Yup – I was worse than St. Bernard!  I think I wound up putting a towel on my pillow.  The one upside was that at least my drool couldn’t get my hair wet – cuz – ya know – chemo!  No hair to worry about!

My friends checked in on me repeatedly.  I kept telling them to go out and enjoy the party.  I didn’t want the food to go to waste.  I wanted everyone to have a good time, even if I couldn’t – maybe especially because I couldn’t.

I’ll never know the absolute truth about that night.  I know I heard music.  I know I heard periodic bursts of loud laughter and talking.  And I let that soothe my soul for the moment, thinking that even if my body wasn’t capable of joining in the fun, at least fun was just one room over, and I had helped supply it.

And I vowed to myself that my next birthday would be better.

And I kept that promise. I don’t remember the specifics of all the birthdays between that night and Saturday, but I definitely took time Saturday night to be grateful that I was able to be the “grill-master” for my friends.  I was thrilled that I was able to spend most of the night on my feet, tending to my guests.  I was so happy to introduce all of my friends to each other and share stories and tips with each other.  I was relieved that I was capable of getting up and going to the door to let my friends in one by one and show them to our little backyard oasis. 

Source: https://media.giphy.com/media/Z4IXspU3iCHlK/giphy.gif

And maybe this year, for the first time, I really understood and appreciated what my grandmother has told me all these years about greeting another year head on.  Yes, I am ONE YEAR OLDER!!!  And that’s more than okay, because you know what?  It really does beat the alternative…

Back on the Horse

The only constant in our lives is change.

And honestly, that’s the way it should be.  If we stay stagnant for too long, we’re not growing, or stretching, or reaching our ultimate potential.

But change can be messy.  It can come when we’re not ready for it.  And it can hurt like a bitch. 

I’ve spent the last month postponing pain.  It’s a trick I learned very early in life as a performer and a dancer.  You can push so hard and build so much momentum that you don’t feel the pain.  You can feed off the stress, the euphoria and the inertia to just keep going and doing.  But when you stop, and you always do eventually stop – that’s when you have to face the pain.

Sometimes it’s strictly physical – like dancing for hours on blistered, bleeding toes, or doing an entire show through a screaming migraine.  And you don’t feel a thing until the applause has subsided and you’re on your way home for the night.  Then – WHAM! (Not the 80’s pop band.)  You collide with the pain that you’ve been suppressing for hours.  You ice, bandage, medicate, and ultimately curl up into a whimpering ball in bed for a few hours believing that when you wake up the next morning, it will have lessened to the point that you can function again.

Image: geocities.ws

But when the pain is on the inside, it’s a different ballgame.  You can push it off for longer.  What – it’s starting to hurt?  Turn on your go-to music playlist.  A tickle of depression? Recite a mantra while putting on mascara and go out for a night with friends!  Keep over-booking.  Keep making jokes.  Keep focusing on the next thing and the next and the next…

That is, until your last shred of sanity is bare.  Until you’re sitting in your living room at 3:33pm without having accomplished anything on your To Do List, starving, but unable to commit to getting dressed and foraging for food.  Until you know the only way to get past is finally go through…

This post is not me getting through.

This post is me acknowledging that it’s time to get through.  This post is me getting back on the horse.  Back on the bicycle.  Back… to the Future!!! – by preparing to deal with the past.  

Image: moviepilot.com

I’m not the protagonist of Eat, Pray, Love.  I don’t have a bunch of money saved up to take a year off from life traveling the globe, devouring food, slurping red wine and banging three generations of B+ List actors. (Would that I did – winning Powerball ticket PLEASE!!!)

But I realize that if I want to get back on that crazy train to success that I was momentarily aboard in the not-so-distant past, I’m going to have to let myself feel the pain, pick up the pieces and move on.

I welcome your thoughts, experiences, coping strategies, words of encouragement, agreements, disagreements, and mostly, your company, as I take this journey over the next few weeks.  And of course, I understand if this is too icky, too close to home or just not your ‘thing’ right now.

Image: Neogaf.com

Grief is F*cking UGLY.  Believe me – I am one UGLY crier!!! (A fact that way too many of my friends can attest to!)  But I know I can’t and more importantly, don’t want to do this alone.

So thank you – in advance.

Hillary J.

Letting Go...

I suffered extensive first world trauma at the age of 15.  I was on a three-week student exchange in Germany when I arrived a few minutes late for a charter bus trip that I was told “under no circumstances” to be late for.

That particular morning I actually was waiting on my German Host ‘sister,’ but I got a rather memorable comeuppance from my teachers who dressed me down in front of ALL the other students in the middle of bus.

I was sure my reputation was ruined forever, but I learned a valuable lesson that day – “Take ownership for your actions and their outcomes.”

(My excuse of, “It really wasn’t my fault this time,” didn’t quite cut it…)

So I’ve built my life around taking responsibility and ownership and seeing through what I start.  But now I have a new handicap.

I don’t always know when to let go.

Correction – I usually KNOW when – I just struggle with the execution...

I’ve always had a hard time uttering the word, “no,” when asked to do something I don’t want to do.  And I’ve rarely been able to say, “I’m done,” with anything more significant than a tasty dinner.

Peas are God's way of punishing mouthy children...

So two days ago, when a person I really didn’t want to deal with called me and literally demanded that I talk to him, I put him off and told him I’d call the next day.

All the next day, I wondered why I’d told him that.  I didn’t want to talk to him.  And I didn’t want to dive back into a project that I’d finally let go of after three years of investing massive amounts of time and money.

I was done. I am done.  I’m okay with that – so why couldn’t I say it to that dipsh*t when he called me?

Those of us who work in collaborative mediums like filmmaking learn to take a great deal of ownership in our work or it won’t get done.  That’s good.

But when you’re having a staring contest with your phone because you’d rather digest and sh*t out your own tongue than make one more promise to pursue a dead avenue, it’s time to get up from the table, scrape what’s left on your plate into the trash and start over new. 

Dignity AND sign language that is...

We deserve a fresh start from time to time.  Without one, we’d go absolutely insane. So this year, I hope to learn to say, “I quit,” with dignity – and screen my calls better...  

Graduation!!!

Over the last two years, I've been on this crazed, hectic journey to keep up with my regular life all while earning a BFA in Creative Writing for Entertainment at Full Sail University.  It's a very new program and one of only three BFA degrees in the country that focuses on writing for entertainment.

Yesterday at 8:30am, I graduated with four classmates who comprise the first ever on-campus section of the class. (Two online classes graduated before us - whatever...)  As the recipient of the Advanced Achiever Award, I was selected to give the graduation speech for my class.

The opening kind of terrified a few of the faculty members - but over all, it went pretty well...

Wow!  I’d like to thank the Academy, my manager and all my home-girls still shaking what their mammas gave them at the Skyway lounge…  Oops!

*Diablo Cody’s Oscar speech from Juno?  What am I doing with that?

 

Oscar on the horizon? You never know! And I've never been above a little 'foreshadowing!'
*Not REALLY the opening to Diablo Cody's Oscar speech!

  

 

…But in case any of you are concerned – don’t worry.  I could never be the ‘next Diablo Cody’ because I could never make a living in adult Entertainment for one very important reason – as my mother, classmates and ALL my teachers can now attest, I have absolutely no idea how to behave like an adult…

Case in point - Right now someone off stage is checking her notes and saying – uh oh… this is NOT the speech Hillary J. Walker submitted Sunday afternoon.

And she is right.

This isn’t the speech.  I wrote a speech - a solid speech. It was kind of cute in the beginning, gave some shout outs to my classmates, and took an inspirational turn into the home stretch where I thanked everyone responsible for my success.  Ta –Da!

But I realized after I turned it in, that I didn’t want to ‘deliver a speech,’ because I’ve spent the last two years of my life at this school learning to be a storyteller.  So the only fair thing for me to do is to tell you a story.

It’s about a deeply flawed protagonist who came here 10 years ago and really really wanted to make movies on the big screen. But after going on the tour, and even reserving a seat in the film production AS program, she just couldn’t figure out how to make it work. And she knew being a set PA wasn’t REALLY her dream.

So she enlisted in the Army National Guard and became a broadcast journalist. Also – not really her dream.

Then one Christmas, just two weeks after her stupid ex-husband drove away in a glistening yellow pick up truck, her ‘not quite dream’ turned into an actual nightmare when she found out she had cancer in her left big toe.

It’s amazing what a big pain in the butt toe-cancer can be.  In fact it almost killed our hero, but she decided she wanted to stick around – not to stick it to her idiot ex (who totally deserved it), or to even find new love and live happily ever after. She fought to live because there were so many stories living inside her head that she still wanted to tell.  There were so many words she’d never write and worlds she’d never create if she just gave up over one freakishly tenacious toe tumor…

In case any of you are wondering, this isn’t some script I’ve been working on for class.  This is my story.

And eventually, as John Cleese so elegantly said in Monty Python’s Holy Grail – "I got bettah…"

But I didn’t know how to get great – Until two years ago when I came back to tour Full Sail with an old friend who was chasing a new dream of her own. And I found out about the shiny new Creative Writing for Entertainment BFA.

That Sunday afternoon, I saw Garry Jones standing right here on this stage daring me to follow my dream – The very dream that kept me alive during the darkest point in my life.

And that moment I knew that someday I wanted to stand on this stage and dare others to follow their dreams too.

I’m not great yet.  But I made it to this stage.  And thanks to family members who’ve shown me more support than I deserve – thanks to teachers who boldly went where no curriculum has ever gone before – thanks to Program Director Noelani Cornell who has discovered that teaching writers entails more ‘cat-herding’ than a Siegfried and Roy show – and of course, thanks to Garry Jones, who dares each one of us to become the stars he believes we all can be – thanks to each of those people – I know how to get ‘great.’

Allison, Brittney, Micah and yes – even especially Garrett, you know how to get there too.  And I promise to help you each remember that, if you promise to remind me from time to time.

Thank you all for being here today to celebrate with me and the rest of Full Sail’s first ever Campus class to graduate from the Creative Writing for Entertainment BFA program.

Congratulations to all my fellow December 2013 grads! Guys - we totally got this!

Dirty Words...

Revision and Editing.

They used to be vulgar words that violated all I held holy.

In high school I considered myself a One-Draft-Wonder.  And compared to most of my classmates, I was.

Yeah – this sounds cocky, but honestly, it all comes down to process.  Some of us just use different methods of getting from A to B.  If I know a cross-town route that has fewer traffic lights, I’ll take it – even if it’s not quite as direct as your route.  I’ll probably get to my destination in the same amount of time as you.  I had to drive a little further, but I didn’t have to stop as many times along the way.

Can you say, "YUCK?" For me - the fewer of these, the better!

In writing, it’s the same.  I’m a ‘revise as I go’ kind of girl.  I’m also an ‘over-writer.’  When it’s time for me to clean up a first draft, it doesn’t typically require a massive overhaul.  It’s about punching up an image, cleaning up superfluous language and making sure I have the right its, theirs and twos. 

My road from ‘envisioning’ to complete ‘first draft’ is one in which I’m constantly smoothing transitions, rereading what I’ve written and solving problems as I go instead of glossing over them.

I realize not everyone has the patience to write this way.  However, it was the process I developed at a very early age, and it’s served me well. (Except for my 9^th grade English class, which I almost failed because our teacher graded us on ‘process’.)

So the other night, when my BFA Revisions and Editing teacher innocently asked if any of us had experienced writing an initial draft that lived up to our original intent, I raised my hand.  And today, after a couple of hours combing through work trying to find a scene that could use ‘considerable revision,’ I’m writing a blog instead of doing my homework.  Are there things that I could improve upon?  Of course!  But are they fully dysfunctional dead-end scenes with no purpose or clear outcome in dire need of painstaking revision?  Not really.

They are bits and pieces that could be decluttered, trimmed or polished. Atoms within cells. Branches within forests. Planet within galaxies – you get the picture.

I understand the value of the exercise.  I just hope she understands the amount of work it took to get it so close to right the first time…

MORE #SocialNetworking Commandments

You may be reading these online fan base building tips going, "Okay - if you're such an expert how come you don't even have 1,000 Twitter Followers yet?"  

Fair question.  

My biggest struggle is obeying my own Commandments - especially number Four.  Oh number Four... you always get me into trouble...

 THE FOURTH COMMANDMENT

Thou Shalt Be Consistent – especially at the beginning.

I follow a number of named celebrities on Twitter who go sometimes weeks, sometimes months without posting a dang thing.  That’s okay.  I’m going to keep following them because I’m interested in what they post when they post again.  You do not have that luxury. Be sure to post a few times a day. A few equals 3 – 5.  Too many and people will delete you for taking up their whole feed.  Too few and they’ll ‘clean’ their contacts and figure since you don’t tweet anymore, they might as well ‘unfollow’ you.  Sure – there are exceptions.  Tonight I must have posted about 8 posts or so in a one hour span coming up with new #OtherStarTrekFilms.  (The most successful was A SpockWork Orange…)  For an hour, I was part of a community of people I didn’t even know, but I was doing something that reinforced my brand and gained several Retweets and about 6 new followers in one hour.  If I hadn’t checked my Twitter tonight, I would have missed that fun game and the opportunity to connect with fellow Trek geeks!  Good thing I was consistent!

I dare you to tell me this mash-up isn't "Highly Logical!"

THE FIFTH COMMANDMENT

Thou Shalt Do Unto Others…

People follow you?  Follow them back – or at least mention them and thank them for Following.  People comment on a Facebook post?  Like it.  See a blog link from one of your followers? Read it/comment/share - repeat! Why would anyone put out content and ask others to participate without doing the same for them? It shows reciprocal appreciation to those who interact with your posts.  I mean, God has been credited with answering the occasional prayer, and even Ron Howard ReTweets fans – so what makes you too good to respond to the feedback your audience is giving?  Got a friend asking you to join a Band page, Modeling Page or Movie page?  Do it!  Then when you invite them to join your page/read your blog/share your video they’ll be more likely to show you the same support you just showed them.

Writer's C*ckBlock

Did you get everything on YOUR list? Photo retrieved from www.prevention.com

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I’m finicky.

There – I said it.  Not about ‘Chandler-esque’ nitpicky shit.  Little superficial things can disappear in the context of a great connection.  But I have a very refined list of what I’m looking for in a ‘gentleman caller,’ and I’m not willing to compromise.  Here’s the number one reason:

• If I do compromise and delve into a relationship with someone who is ‘substandard,’ two months, weeks, days or minutes down the road I WILL meet Mr. Right who is the exact quintessential blend of every quality I’m looking for and then I’ll have to either be ‘dignified’ and remain loyal to my consolation prize, or break his heart and risk the karmic rampage my actions set into motion. 

That isn’t to say that I can’t fine ANYONE who meets my criteria.  It’s not too terribly unrealistic after all.

The problem is, the guys I meet who can check off every box on my shopping list are sadly already in someone else’s grocery cart!  By and large, many Ineligible Men (those with significant others) let themselves go after a while, and just don’t appeal to me.  I need someone fit and active who can keep up with my lifestyle as well as his own.   Men surrounded by the yummy goodness of monogamy tend to put on a little weight, dress in whatever decade they initially found true love, and zone out of conversations that do not focus on their favorite teams or reality television shows. 

Lest anyone think I’m being unfair – please note that the same frequently holds true for ‘settled’ women.  Sadly, their conversations always seem to link back to their children or some horrific medical procedure.  Even less appealing!

But on occasion, I meet a guy who still knows what shampoo is, gets all my goofy pop culture references, makes some of his own, and isn’t old enough to be my father or young enough to be my illegitimate son.  I check.  No ring or tan lines on his finger.  I flirt – just a little.  And then those damn words – “my girlfriend likes that too.”  Or, “I’d better text my fiancé to let her know I’ll be late.”

And sometimes, I can’t help but wonder – did he get what he really wanted, or did he roll up a few minutes before closing time, toss something in his basket and take it to the “Ten-items-or-less” express lane just so he could check out and go home?  See, I’m willing to bet that if he had made a shopping list first, then I’d be able to check off all of his boxes too…

A Bad Reputation...

It's a gamble.

But then, all forward thinking is.

For my class this month, I committed to posting three YouTube Videos as a character I played in my first feature Film ACTION!!!

The thing is, not only does the character look like me - she has my name!  In the interest of making a three-day mostly improvised shoot as simple as possible, I encouraged all the actors to use their own names, and I led by example.  Please don't be fooled by the girl you see in the monitor.  She bears very little resemblance to 'real life' Hillary J.  Besides - 12-step meetings are for quitters!!!

Film Selection - Part I of ???

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Film selection for the film festival I work on has begun again – sigh…

I LOVE working on a film festival.  I love that somewhere in the piles of DVDs with haphazardly-scrawled WAB tracking numbers on them lie secret gems lovingly made with countless hours of writing, rewriting, fundraising, preproduction, 12-plus hour shooting days fueled on pizza and Red Bull, and sleepless nights of editing and post production magic. 

However, nothing breaks my heart more than to see a film that actors, directors and videographers have slaved over that just doesn’t effectively tell a story.

Some of the films could be redeemable with a ‘3^rd party edit.’  Some of them just are so painfully underdeveloped that they never should have started shooting in the first place.  Here are a couple things to keep in mind before you submit your ‘baby.’

1) Pacing!  I had the privilege of going to the CannesFilm Festival last month where I watched a number of beautifully made Independents starring some mega A-listers.  However, even in the big leagues, the audience can only tolerate looking at your romantic leads staring longingly at each other for so long.

I don’t care how cute your lead actress looks with her bedroom tussled hair in that perfect lighting you created with an Ikea China Ball.  If a snapshot can tell a thousand words, then your 60-second take of her pushing an unruly tendril behind her ear is a freakin’ Dickensonian run-on sentence.  Evoke the emotion – then move on to the next moment.

2) Too Many Montages!  If you find yourself cutting to a montage every 8 – 10 minutes, you may want to reconsider how you’re telling your story.  The reasons for too many montages vary.  Sometimes the filmmaker is telling too much back-story so the movie is filling in too many blanks.  Sometimes the filmmaker isn’t getting specific enough, so the montages are sweeping visual generalizations.  Sometimes the filmmaker is in love with some artistic B-roll, so the audience is accosted with avant-garde shots of a sprinkler watering flowers from multiple angles at varying speeds.  None of these are good reasons for montage abuse – and they lead me to number 3…

Unless you've got a product placement deal with Revlon, please don't show me this shot in your movie - even if you think you can do it better than Getty Images!

 

3) Every Shot Should Tell the Story!  Is your story about lipstick? No?  Why are you taking 60 seconds of my life to show a tube of lipstick, an ECU of lipstick being applied, and then the girl blotting the lipstick before she leaves for the day?  If it’s not a story about cosmetics and you haven’t brokered a product placement deal from Revlon, don’t show me a friggin’ woman putting on lipstick.  I’m a woman.  I put on lipstick every day.  Sometimes, I don’t even use a mirror.  Watching another woman put on lipstick is not interesting unless it’s part of the story.  Watching a man put on a tie is not interesting unless it’s part of the story.  Watching people walk down a busy street is not interesting unless… Get it?  And don’t fool yourself into thinking that just because you wrote it into the script/shot list it’s actually part of the story.  If imagery doesn’t raise the stakes, evoke a strong emotion or give us unique insight into the character, please leave it on the cutting room floor where it belongs.

I’m sure I’ll have some more obvious pointers in the coming weeks as I continue to review submissions.  All this said, I’m not some mega-bitch who hates filmmakers.  I am a filmmaker.  I’ve made these mistakes.  And now I cringe to think about them.  But keep working on your art.  Mistakes are the best way to learn, as long as you remember not to make them again.