Liz Best and Me

I met Liz Best back in 2018.  I remember our first conversation.  My play ANIMAL was chosen by the Alumnae Theatre to have a public reading and I as the writer had to interview directors.   Liz sat across from me and one of the very first things she said was, “Oh, I really liked yours.”  Flattering words of course, and I listened to her and then went on with the rest of the interviews.   I chose her to direct the reading – which was a vastly different script than the version of ANIMAL that has emerged some five years later.   Liz was instrumental in ultimately getting ANIMAL staged at the Alumnae Theatre.   That production allowed me to make the necessary changes I felt the script needed.  Liz is generous to a tee – in the recent pic above, she treated me to lunch.  Her humor is matched by her sarcasm.   She is wickedly motivated and that kind of energy  rubs off on you.  We hadn’t seen each other in over a year and yet it was like no time had passed.

Speaking of time, isn’t it flying by?  I can’t believe ANIMAL was staged five  years ago.  It’s hard to believe we’re already in April and I’m still working on a re-write of my hockey/mental illness screenplay BREAK AWAY.  Writing is a frustratingly funny business.  When I’m away from it for a day or two, I miss it and can’t wait to sit back down and unpack what I’m working on.   The idea of writing fills you with such hope.  But anyone who is a writer knows that the reality is when you sit down to write, suddenly writing becomes not so much fun.

A quote by Stephen King about hope.  I just finished reading one of his books, Mr. Mercedes – gripping, sad, twisted and like all King books, dark with a lining of hope.  He wrote this bit of writing for Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption (from the movie The Shawshank Redemption).  I have shared this quote before.  Sometimes we all need a little reminder:

My  hope is to be done the re-write of BREAK AWAY in the next month.  I am half way through this arduous process.  I think it’s turning into a darn good script, but it’s taking me longer than I’d like to admit.  It is what it is.  That’s the process.  A  couple days ago, I spent an entire afternoon re-working two pages of dialogue.  It’s the mid-point of the script, a crucial scene in the story and it wasn’t working.  Everything I wrote, I hated.  I scratched out dialogue, re-worked it again and again and again.  Walked around.  Looked out a window.   Played some music.  Surf the net.  And was growing restless, listless, fighting lazy fatigue and boredom.  Finally there was a break through late in the day and I felt a weight lift from my shoulders.   This script is not for everyone, that’s for sure, but I have high hopes that the time  poured into this story (and all my stories) will lead to more doors opening.  Hope, if we allow it, is refined through time.

Speaking of doors – when one door closes, another opens….Latest result:

My screenplay A PROMISDED I MADE TO MR. BAGEL did not make the semi-final cut of  Creative Screenwriting Unique Voices Screenplay Competition.

Whenever these results come in, it’s a bundle of  stress and massive disappointment if I don’t see my name.  And so this result was no different.  I thought Mr. Bagels would be on the list.   Bummer.

However, I want to celebrate that A PROMISE I MADE TO MR. BAGELS made the quarters of Emerging Screenwriters DRAMA Screenplay Competition.  Here’s hoping next time Mr. Bagels lands in the semi’s and opens another door.  Until next time, keep hope alive.