Dotty's favorite pot-roast

I promised myself that I would post quick, nutritious, and cheap recipes on here that would give a busy artist-mom more time to create.....and I haven't done it yet!!! Aaaah! Sorry about that. But we had an amazing b1g1 sale on roast beef at my grocery store today, and I made the easiest, tastiest pot-roast that we've ever had in this household.

The thing about my recipes is that they're always changing, depending on what's on sale, and what I happen to have around the house. That might be irritating to some of you, but I feel like it makes it easy to adapt to your own family's needs.

Here's the goods:

1 pot roast (whatever size you can get cheap)
1-2 cans of beef broth (depending on size of roast)
potatoes (I use ~6 small)
carrots (I use 1lb)
onion soup mix (I use about 1/3rd an envelope)
Worcestershire Sauce
rosemary to taste
bay leaves

A CROCK POT!

Cut up carrots and potatoes, and line them in the bottom of the crock. Add roast.
Add other ingredients in this order: beef broth, Worcestershire sauce (until it covers roast and veggies), rosemary, onion soup mix, and bay leaves. This way, the wet ingredients won't wash off the spices, and your roast will have all day to absorb them.

Set roast on low, cook for ~6 hours if fresh, ~8 if frozen.

You'll know it's done when it falls apart on a fork. :)

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.

Cleaning up puke is so inspiring. So is insomnia.

The worst possible combination of things happened today--I didn't sleep, and everyone else in the house was sick. That meant I spent today like a zombie. I spent too much time on the internet, I cooked only the bare minimum requirement, and I fed bland flavor-less chicken broth to my poor puking husband after bringing him soup that was too spicy earlier.

I also cleaned up two different people's puke. Yuck.

However, I also had this nagging feeling at the back of my mind that I had an un-confessed sin in my heart. I usually ignore such a feeling, because the Lord tends to reveal sin *directly*, while the enemy gives a vague feeling of unworthiness. But this one nagged me. I asked the Lord to reveal whatever the sin was, and trusted Him to do so in His time.

Later, I was researching some stuff for my screenplay, and BAM! I found an amazing part of my antagonist's primal motivation for his badness. Yippee! I felt like my bad guy was portrayed as a dude who just woke up one morning and felt like being bad. That never translates to the screen well for me. I've never met someone who says, "I'm bad" except for Michael Jackson. For me, believable screen bad guys have a reason to think they're in the right.

Anyway, my particular bad guy is part of a larger social group, and during my research, I realized that I'd harbored a *hate* of this particular group in my own heart. I'm really thankful God revealed that to me, because it would have tainted every part of this work. I don't want to hate, or even be suspicious of, any group of people just because they're a part of any group. On the other hand, I don't want to pretend I approve of what this group is doing! Heck, they wouldn't approve of half of the things I do every day--but that's still no reason to hate them. Aren't we commanded to love our enemies? DANG that's hard!!! I wanted to have a righteous hatred! I wanted to have a holy reason to dislike them! And I had *no idea* I felt that way. It grew up without my noticing it--a weed among thorns. We all know what happens to seed that falls on thorny ground, right? :-P

Gosh, I need God's supernatural love here. "Lord, I pray for a true love for this people that I've hated. I ask for your forgiveness. I thought I was above any sort of "ism"--racism, classism, or any other type of discrimination. I pray for your forgiveness, and for a true, deep abiding love for these people. I'm so sorry. Please wash my work of any hatred."

Heh, funny thing is, I keep a picture of Mel Gibson on my computer. He let hatred of a [different] group of people totally undermine his whole life. His picture was to remind me, "Don't take your eyes off Jesus, or it doesn't matter what great works of art you do. People won't pay attention to what you say; they'll just remember how you live." Now, I'll keep it there to remind me not to give the devil even the tiniest foothold in the realm of hate.

Too busy writing to blog? A great problem to have!

I'm amazed. Today, I put the final "." on [the first draft of] a screenplay that I've been working on for two months. I squealed and laughed and shouted all the way home from Starbucks this morning...and there was still plenty of laundry to do, dishes to wash, and cooking to start when I got home. :)

This is not my first screenplay. It's my third. It is, however, my first feature-length screenplay, so it's the single longest project I've ever completed. Like Stephen Pressfield said in his amazing book, "The War of Art," I feel like I've slain a huge dragon, and watched it breathe its last sulfuric breath. Rest in peace.

It was the emotional equivalent of breaking the four-minute mile. If I can finish THIS project in two months, then a spec TV script is going to be a psychological cinch. A skit for my church is already as natural as breathing. I have defeated the enemy that lived in my head, and banished the devil that whispered in my ear. Despite what the evil little voices said, I CAN do this. So there.

Praise God.

I'm going to cry if I don't sell it, sure. I'm not going to pretend that it isn't a huge emotional investment, and I definitely want to be paid for it. I'm armed with the knowledge that, if it doesn't sell, I can write another one! However, I'm convinced that God gave me a unique angle on this story, one that's salable and beneficial for others. I'm going to be genuinely surprised if it doesn't sell. The doors on constructing the story opened too quickly in my mind for it NOT to have been the work of the Holy Spirit. If the Spirit was just using this to teach me how to write, fine. God owns the cattle on a thousand hills, and He will provide for all my needs according to his glorious riches in Christ Jesus. I just hope He'll put up with my whining and pouting for a few days afterward. ;-) I'm going to trust Him with this.

In the meantime, I feel like I've been making amazing strides in dealing with my ADHD. I found the book, "ADD-friendly ways to organize your life," and I'm suddenly finding my thresholds are a lot cleaner, so the muse can enter without soiling her gown. I'm even finding time for my kids AND my art at the same time! Cr-aaaa-zy.

Yesterday, I actually tricked my daughter into letting me do some crafts. ;) She was going to a birthday party, so I gave her a blank gift bag to "decorate" for her friend, while I worked on an art-journal/organizer for my papers. She made an adorable bag, and I got my paper clutter under control in a cute way.

Dang, that wasn't a trick, was it? :) It was a creative combining of activities! Hahaha!

So, I've got tons of re-writing to do on my script. I'm itching to get started on it. However, I've always heard that I should step away for six weeks before starting a re-write. I'll try at least one week. ;) I

Lots of Love, Taylor

Don't let the muse soil her gown!

I have a dear friend who shames me with her perfectly clean house. She's an accomplished and successful artist--with two kids!--and she once said to me, "I simply can't create unless I'm comfortable in my space." Stephen Pressfield, author of "The War of Art" echos this sentiment, saying, "The professional [artist] will not tolerate disorder. He will make sure the threshold is swept...so that the muse may enter and not soil her gown."

I have to remember two things: My friend does not have ADD (but I do), and Stephen Pressfield had no kids.

Finally letting my housework drop down a few notches in priority was essential in maintaining any sort of schedule for my art. If I'm going to get up early and greet my muse, then meeting her had to take priority over the dirty dishes. In a house with two small kids, the domestic work will simply NEVER be done. If I insist that there must be order (when my brain doesn't have the proper structure to dictate that order to me) for me to create, then the creation will never, ever, ever get done.

People with ADD are lacking essential structures in their brain. It's almost impossible to filter out distractions and focus on the task at hand. If we *are* able to focus, we very well might end up in a state of "hyper-focus", where we zone out for hours at a time and focus on one specific thing to the exclusion of all else.

That's not good if the toddler is trying to eat her pencil.

However, a good compromise seems to be to get OUT of my house in order to write. I've been pretty successful at writing at Starbucks, and now I'm 1/4th of the way through my first feature-length screenplay. Here, it's someone *else's* job to sweep the threshold, which may be why the muse so frequently greets me.

First things first.....

I've discovered the first thing necessary to succeeding as an artist-mom: sleep. I can't live without it. No matter how hard I try, I can't even go 24 hours without it. There was a day when I could deprive myself of sleep for an extended period of time (like, 2+ years) and the only person I hurt was myself. Now, if I do that, I hurt myself, my husband, my kids, and my creativity. I can't plan to reasonably execute a project or a play-date without adequate sleep.

Why it took me so long to figure this out is anyone's guess. My second baby just started sleeping through the night two months ago. She didn't accomplish this feat until she was eight months old. And of course, she wouldn't take a bottle, so I was the only one who could feed her. (Whine) As soon as I was reasonably rested, I got my booty to Starbucks at 5:30am, and started writing.

I don't know how much time I wasted, beating myself up for not writing, not creating, and not being perfect in my balance of the various juggling balls of life. I wouldn't expect anyone else to do anything without sleep. And I didn't sleep. I existed.

Before my second daughter was born, I didn't sleep either. I worked 3rd shift. I tried to continue having a life during the day, and I worked during the night, and I never slept. Again, it's no wonder that my creative life suffered. I had to be perfect. I had to live without debt, and without depending on my husband to make decisions, and had to clean my house perfectly, and have my oldest daughter behaving perfectly (she wouldn't, dangit! ;) ) and I wondered why I was never happy. Why I was always ready to snap at someone. Why I couldn't just relax and enjoy anything.

Perfection is an illusion. It's a mirage that makes you walk a little bit farther up a burning hot hill, but keeps slipping a few more inches away from you. It's not worth pursuing. It's a strangling, death-grip on creativity. And on family. Only when I let my perfectionistic expectations fall by the wayside did I actually let myself enjoy my oldest daughter for who she is. I'm just glad that she was 3 and not 30 when I figured this out. Then I slept.