To lick my wounds and move on...

I guess this is my first real experience with rejection: the TV pilot script that I wrote, re-wrote, and basically slaved over for months got rejected by Scriptapalooza TV. It didn't even make the quarter-finals.

Boo-freaking-hoo. I ate a big chocolate-chip cookie with icing on it. I felt like crap and wished I'd eaten a smoothie instead.

Now, on the other hand, the crappier first-draft of it made the semi-finals in another contest! I seriously think that script had serious drawbacks, and that this one was much, much, much better. But then I found a lovely little blog post by Trevor Finn about how he stopped entering contests and started focusing on being the best possible writer he could be. You know what? He got an angent. He got an agent by focusing on being a GREAT writer. And writing query letters. Writing query letters is free, you know. :) Contests are not.

So, within minutes of scarfing down the calorie-laden sugar bomb, I decided I'm going to make my OWN contest: I will simply "pimp the he[ck] out of myself," as Stephen Pressfield says, to as many people as will read the scripts. I will be a professional. I will be the best freaking writer I can be. I will work hard, and I will SUCCEED at this (after putting in way more than 10,000 hours of practice, I'm sure).

Today though, I might simply focus on getting my house cleaned, and playing with my kids. My 18-month old is asleep, and my 4 year old has been watching way too much TV today. (She's getting over a long string of kiddie-sicknesses, and we've gotten used to the rhythm of TV. A very hard habit to break.)

I was rocking the 18 month old before she went down for her nap. When I got to caress her little curly head, I was so thankful that I got the privilege of loving her. I know that these two girls are my first priority. They bring me such joy. Today, even though I'm living through this rejection, I'm going to enjoy them. I'm going to be thankful for them.

I'm also going to get a babysitter for a couple of hours, and drown my sorrows in a hazelnut latte.

How many different ways can I procrastinate?

This is driving me crazy. I don't want to write this long revision, but if I don't write it, I'll never FINISH it, and if I don't FINISH it, this movie will plague my head by rewinding and playing in all the ways I COULD have written it. AAAAHHH! I find it funny that Steven Pressfield listed "websurfing" among his list of vices that artists reach for when they encounter resistance to finishing their work. (The others were adultery, addiction, being a pissant jerk to everyone you love, and consuming large quantities of twinkies.) Websurfing is truly a wonderful way to procrastinate. You can imbibe large quantities of information without ever having to DO anything with it! You can even write comments about what you read, and get instant feedback on those comments, where people say, "Oh! You're such a great writer with such wonderful insight into this topic!" Gag me. It's cheep booze for the soul, THAT'S ALL.

I'm working on something that people COULD call utterly ridiculous, not in my field, a first-timer's story, etc. I'm investing a huge amount of emotion and soul into something that may NOT get good feedback! It's hard. I don't want to do it.

I want to retreat back into the land of possibilites where my *potential* was always there, and it was always someone else's fault that I wasn't reaching it. (Somebody go get the "waaaaaaaaaaambulance!") Now that I'm taking responsibility for my own dreams, for reaching these goals....dang, it's a lot harder than sitting around whining about all the reasons why I can't get it done. Now I have no more excuses. Now the only enemies I have to face are: 1) the devil, and 2) my own mind. They're deadly, man! They're fatal! And the only ones who can stop them are me and JESUS Himself.

It's snowing again. Great. :-P Now I can go procrastinate by shoveling the sidewalk. It's easier than sitting down to actually do my work.

Lots of Love,
Taylor.