2023 ended on a harsh reality for me.  2024 begins on an optimistic note.   My screenplay LET IT SHINE was just listed as a quarter-finalist in the Emerging Screenwriters Screenplay Competition.  Thousands of scripts were entered from around the world.  It is no small feat to get on this list.   I chuckle at the word “emerging”  because I would hazard to guess that more than half of the writers who made this list have been at the craft of writing for some time, like myself.   Each script I write (and certainly re-write), I “emerge” into a new writer because I keep learning.   That’s the key to writing:  learn, adapt and move onto the next script.

I have said this before, but LET IT SHINE is one of my favorites.  It’s a coming-of-age story of a young girl who fights to find her voice as she struggles mightily with a stutter that has inhibited her throughout her young life.  Finding her voice (both metaphorically and literally) drives the young protagonist to situations and people that challenge and change her forever.  Through trials and many tribulations, she blossoms into a powerful human being, unafraid to take on the world.

I have confidence that LET IT SHINE can make the Semi’s which will be announced later in January.  Of course I’m biased but you have to have a certain belief in yourself; that’s especially true when the outcome is not what you desired.  Rejection and disappointment are hard on the soul and the motivation to keep on going often wavers.  Remember your strengths during these times.   Remember why you like to write (or do the things you love to do).  We can often get lost in the doing and the achieving without really enjoying the journey – something I know I need to remind myself of daily.   My hopes for 2024 is that I write a new screenplay and play.  It is time.  For now I will bask and take a bow in this Quarter-final placement.  Here’s hoping for more sunny horizons.

Speaking of time.  Grief has no time.  Nor does grief care about your deadlines or set schedules.  As a writer, you are always on deadlines, sometime of your own doing (creates discipline/good work ethic) or sometimes you are working with others and need to produce.  But grief reminds us that we have to take a time out.  Grief is a force like no other.  It doesn’t care about your deadlines. I lost my mother at the end of 2023 and I would be remiss if I did not reference my personal grief, particularly because it will likely influence my next script. I had a special bond with my mother.  Her absence is larger than any pain I have felt in my life.  Nothing compares to this massive weight.  She was unforgettable, unique, compassionate, fearless, forgiving and a gentle soul whose faith was bigger than life and whose love was unconditional.  And when she died, with a total peace in her heart, mind and spirit, a piece of me died with her.  So I will never be the same again.  But that’s okay.  Change happens in this life.  We have to adapt.  We have to be willing to move on and not get stuck where we are.  I told my mom before she died, because she was so worried for me, that I would be okay.  In fact I had that very conversation on this porch, in the photo you see below.  This is the last photo of my mom and I together.  My brother Bob, always ready to take a photo, snapped this beautiful reminder of the huge love and joy we shared.  But most of all, it shows the enormous courage this woman had as she faced her mortality.  Despite that, she still managed to laugh and make us feel that it will be okay in the end.

I leave this photo as a reminder that life is beautiful, but never perfect.  It can be hard, challenging and sometimes cruelly unfair.  And if you love, you will grieve, that’s a price that must be paid.  It hurts, but worth the pain.  I know of and have talked to people in the last couple months who have lost loved ones way too early in life (whether it was a parent, spouse or child).  And I know that I was so fortunate to have my mother – a great friend – who lived a remarkable life of almost 85 years on this earth.   But I also know this, each person’s grief is astoundingly different and incredibly unique to that individual.  To compare one’s grief to another makes little sense.  We are all on our own personal journey.  This journey I’m on today will be an arduous one because my grief is going to take some time.   Many have asked me if I’ve started writing again.  The short answer is:  No, I have not.  But I’ve cried a lot.  I’ve thought a lot about what I will write which will undoubtedly reflect what I’ve experienced these last few months.    I hope whatever journey you’re on, you can see some light at the end of the tunnel.   My mom adored the sun and it was a perfect day when my brother snapped this photo on the porch that she sat on for 9 years.  This was her happy place.   Peace.