It takes courage to talk about having lofty goals because if you fail, everybody knows.
I saw a movie today and met the screenplay writer. I also met the authors that the movie was based on. They had the courage to try. They were just normal people.
Letting people know I am taking on a lofty project, reminds me when I learned to water ski. In order to learn, I had to be willing make a fool out of myself in public.
Seven years ago, my baby girl opened her arms to the world, and flew the coop, over a thousand miles away. This is a picture of me trying not to be sad. My prayer was that of every parent; I hoped that my parent successes were strong enough to compensate for my parent mistakes, and that all I had to give her would be enough.
I was proud of her confidence and delighted in her sense of adventure. She weathered the storms, the neighborhood tornadoes (literally), made lots of friends, got a job she liked, got close to the relatives and lived in the big city. “There are no mountains here,” she said. “The humidity is awful. I miss the desert.”
Whadahyu know, she came back, pretty cool.
My class starts now and Sam has got me covered with my back up plan in case my laptop overheats. Onward!
Today is the last day of me being a wannabe screenplay writer. Tomorrow night I will be a going-to-be screenplay writer, and when I finish the class, if all goes well, after many hours and a lot of work, I will be a screenplay writer.
Ready, set, and going for the bucket list!
I am still processing the spots on the scan that I didn’t know about.
I have a reckless desire to find someone to blame. Its a grab for instant gratification, like the childish compulsion to break something when you are mad.
I’m so used to knowing stuff, or at least thinking I know stuff or at least having an opinion about the stuff I think I know. Oncology, however, is not stuff I know. I am still processing the spots on the scan that I didn’t know about.
I have a reckless desire to find someone to blame. Its a grab for instant gratification, like the childish compulsion to break something when you are mad. How surprising with my medical background, now that I am the patient, my emotional go-to is to throw darts at the doctor.
There is no one to blame, there is no victim here. It was in the reports. I just missed it.
I wanted my book, Anasazi Valley My Story, to have a happy ending, so I ended the story when things were happy. It never quite set right with me. I have ignored a beautiful story that I am very proud of and didn’t know why I left it on the shelf.
I was withholding the rest of the story from the readers. The one where things didn’t go the way we want them to go. Isn’t that the way life really goes? So I have decided to write the missing chapter.
I set my mental time machine back to Anasazi Valley 4 years ago. I relive each moment and then write about what it was like. After working on it for 5 hours, I got up from my desk and had to reacquaint myself to where I was, like I had just stepped out of a time machine.
When I’m done, I hope the readers will feel that too.
I’ve been preparing for a writing class that starts Wednesday. Eight years ago I challenged myself to create a series of adventure stories to help children without mentors navigate their world and hold onto the spiritual part of themselves.
What if I could write a story like that?
I like to think I have the guts and the courage to ask the hard questions. God is a big God and He can handle it. I don’t know all the answers, but I know more than when I started.
I have a draft that I was working on for a book first then a script. I might not have time for both, so I’m doing the script first. I’m going for it.