tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-85074414792421625032024-03-05T18:21:12.989-08:00Entr'acte: Adventures of a Journeyman Actor & Casual WriterSome say Hollywood is an industry, a geographical location or a state of mind. For me it's home.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger25125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8507441479242162503.post-48779403591692885682020-07-09T21:51:00.021-07:002020-07-10T10:14:27.273-07:00Creating Theater in the Age of Covid-19<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmmXmIUeMLNrqIfFYv45UBwhNINqs0NbAF45HRGch6DcgWS10bmbJjChCytu9uGwo2FHemGgBK0INNLy7btIIplonc59x7Mmb-_fYO088UlIqW9JB76LipqvLMWYAy0VqeLpleLqpGuVyx/s283/Ft.+Hachuca+Cast+Photo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="280" data-original-width="283" height="350" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmmXmIUeMLNrqIfFYv45UBwhNINqs0NbAF45HRGch6DcgWS10bmbJjChCytu9uGwo2FHemGgBK0INNLy7btIIplonc59x7Mmb-_fYO088UlIqW9JB76LipqvLMWYAy0VqeLpleLqpGuVyx/w354-h350/Ft.+Hachuca+Cast+Photo.jpg" width="354" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Ft. Huachuca Cast</i></b><br /></td></tr></tbody></table> <font size="5"> </font></span><i style="text-align: left;"><b><font size="5">Is it possible to create theater during a pandemic? Yes.</font></b></i></div><div><div><br /></div><div>Recently, my husband and I were having drinks with friends in New York. That is, we were in Los Angeles, our friends were in New York, and the four of us were on a Zoom meeting enjoying beverages and conversation. Lately, this is our new reality.</div><div><br /></div><div>We caught up with each other's lives as we discussed life during lockdown in our perspective cities. I mentioned I was in rehearsal for a play. My statement paused the conversation.</div><div><br /></div><div>"A play? Now? How's that possible?"</div><div><br /></div><div>I understood. Theaters across the United States, the UK, and around the world have closed until 2021. Many theaters have closed their doors permanently. The idea of rehearsing a play sounded absurd. </div><div><br /></div><div>My journey to creating theater during the Covid 19 pandemic began like many other acting gigs, with a casting notice on an actor's casting platform.</div><div><br /></div><div><i>Casting "Fort Huachuca." Synopsis: Set during World War II in segregated America, five African American women enlist in the army to train as nurses. They are sent to an army base camp in Arizona where they are set to encounter the biggest challenges of their lives.</i></div><div><br /></div><div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHXVjsKmeGbpu-AYl1J0IGrXSxzkuK5ROnZLkCJHS_jGzwB6ghEVzEeMq-sis4f6Hw-VMZyYgd4XKjmscM9jazblrNukWyMXY-wb87lWqsZg8p54YsVVkI0uXE3hzbO-T_bb0ogxgFlobZ/s358/Herb+Allen+Army.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="358" data-original-width="280" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHXVjsKmeGbpu-AYl1J0IGrXSxzkuK5ROnZLkCJHS_jGzwB6ghEVzEeMq-sis4f6Hw-VMZyYgd4XKjmscM9jazblrNukWyMXY-wb87lWqsZg8p54YsVVkI0uXE3hzbO-T_bb0ogxgFlobZ/w200-h256/Herb+Allen+Army.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>My uncle, Sergeant Allen</i></b><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>This period has always fascinated me. My father and uncle were both veterans of WWII where they served in the segregated army. My father served in the European Theater. My uncle served in Europe and Asia; he was part of the "colored" unit that participated in the liberation of the Buchenwald concentration camp. He did not talk about his experiences at Buchenwald until the 1990's. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div> And now, something new had been presented to me; there were Black women serving as nurses in WWII. The thought never occurred to me. I did a little research. When the war ended in September 1945 just 479 black nurses were serving in a corps of 50,000. A quota system imposed by the segregated Army during the last two years of the war held down the number of black enrollments. I found photos and newsreel footage of Black women in uniform which inspired me.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="238" data-original-width="300" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUORCX1Wwh0X6oQEs_9ALKhr6Ej0p3qNKyk2rFFD5SdS5bvnoocgsKoFesIe1474dIiVi2zsVDL-ta0edMdrUQ4zf98XsS134ACEy3DWzgZ44rVRfW7y8Su4AjD2c24lVmtONbh0ANVnQL/w300-h238/Scotland-Nurses-300x238.jpg" style="text-align: left;" width="300" /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-L3tGFz8AruaHgTDBZA7jiA6PaVpSSYPV8oLkMwueXc8gMKd0QoV5lfETRKm3h55v0OgAdTj-hXjWefhN0Ti13mSiSWhOZiDJSuEzMfnSUrlM2tYOKwOV-CnKxC_olBKGedOBpgZgyJB9/s2929/wacs+mail+call8.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2929" data-original-width="2458" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-L3tGFz8AruaHgTDBZA7jiA6PaVpSSYPV8oLkMwueXc8gMKd0QoV5lfETRKm3h55v0OgAdTj-hXjWefhN0Ti13mSiSWhOZiDJSuEzMfnSUrlM2tYOKwOV-CnKxC_olBKGedOBpgZgyJB9/w269-h320/wacs+mail+call8.jpg" width="269" /></a></div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidRkZy6vxlNbIHVsekD_qanFswxOI0JwV3owNF3gWs8XQp8wnGHG38AVXXzKEK8PQLQWa7TIVQHL0_8ejSXAdYX7JWUa2RIaM-fn73Na7gRhfUsGNdUbQYYs-KiwL1XV2mftnaK6Ckn2gn/s1200/wacs+in+Indiana.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="631" data-original-width="1200" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidRkZy6vxlNbIHVsekD_qanFswxOI0JwV3owNF3gWs8XQp8wnGHG38AVXXzKEK8PQLQWa7TIVQHL0_8ejSXAdYX7JWUa2RIaM-fn73Na7gRhfUsGNdUbQYYs-KiwL1XV2mftnaK6Ckn2gn/w500-h263/wacs+in+Indiana.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><b>Us Army Nurses arriving in Scotland, at mail call in South East Asia, and training in Indiana</b><br /></i></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>The next day I shot a self-tape (an audition shot at home.) This has become common practice for actors in these last few years. During the Covid 19 crisis, most auditions are conducted this way. A few weeks later, I was offered the role of Lt. Susan E. Freeman in Fort Huachuca. The play is one of the offerings in this year's SheLA Summer Theater Festival, the premiere festival for new, original, creative works by women playwrights and composers in Los Angeles. </div><div><br /></div><div>The actor's agreement was standard, save for one phrase: <i>It will be 100% digital</i>.</div><div><br /></div><div>At first, I had a hard time wrapping my mind around the concept, imagining the play being performed in a theater and recorded for viewing. I soon learned 100% digital meant that I would be rehearsing and performing from my home. For me, this meant my dining room. </div><div><br />At first, my preparation was no different than it would be for any other theatrical production. I began memorizing and studying the period, which included researching the segregated army. </div><div><br /></div><div>For the first time I was portraying a real person. Lt. Susan E. Freeman was the chief nurse at Ft. Huachuca. She commanded the first unit of Black nurses to serve overseas at the 25th Station Hospital in Liberia. She would be the first Black Army nurse to be promoted to the rank of Captain. I needed to find her connection to the new nurses at the Fort Huachuca.</div><div><br /></div><div>At our first rehearsal, I realized this was going to be like no other production I'd ever done. Our director, Ani Marderosian, described the production as “a step above a staged reading.” I was working with an amazingly talented cast of actors in three states and two countries. My stage was a 3x5 space against the back wall of my dining room. My proscenium was the width of my laptop screen. We met via Zoom.</div><div><div></div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZEHzXJatsp1i1bQCndk3J_K4ZnsYPieTDCXTRG1GqZH_VDsGbVRnn1rOne7CMbLY4R3taMNsmecC8bV0_UaUVuemkJVTVegg4FZtcTzu9qpbRqpXbVgTxo8vL3TcqmPPtO14hWkGLR1Yh/s1940/Ft+Huachuca+Rehearsal+Pic.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1225" data-original-width="1940" height="130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZEHzXJatsp1i1bQCndk3J_K4ZnsYPieTDCXTRG1GqZH_VDsGbVRnn1rOne7CMbLY4R3taMNsmecC8bV0_UaUVuemkJVTVegg4FZtcTzu9qpbRqpXbVgTxo8vL3TcqmPPtO14hWkGLR1Yh/w205-h130/Ft+Huachuca+Rehearsal+Pic.jpg" width="205" /></a></div>For me, the most challenging aspects of the production were technical. At the first rehearsal, and despite the fact I'd done several Zoom meetings with no issues, my microphone was not working. I was able to fix the issue, but at subsequent rehearsals had a backup laptop and my cell phone nearby just in case. I had to remind myself to look at the lens of the camera to connect with my fellow castmates and the audience. I ran Zoom meetings with myself to get comfortable with entrances, exits while operating my camera and microphone. I spiked my laptop, lights, and dining room table with gaffer's tape for consistency. Wardrobe was simplified to what was in our closets. No special makeup was needed, though I replicated a period hairstyle.</div><div><br /></div><div>During our recording process, I had the same pre performance butterflies I experience before any production. Now that our final taping is over, I'm experiencing bittersweet satisfaction I feel after the completion of any other play. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx5LF17u7lGPDT2UbeqnHfB5ZuXVQkcDapzm0JPG1xJibBm4Zmc6WImPME5Ql2Odkhv6zoeAfDYqQWk7ts7Gg9AawQCfs-df_PgD9G_WWPBaTVlJunr2eMx5nWmeHoQDfM9fd_1hHJMuGE/s480/FT+Huachuca+Photo+%25282%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="233" data-original-width="480" height="243" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx5LF17u7lGPDT2UbeqnHfB5ZuXVQkcDapzm0JPG1xJibBm4Zmc6WImPME5Ql2Odkhv6zoeAfDYqQWk7ts7Gg9AawQCfs-df_PgD9G_WWPBaTVlJunr2eMx5nWmeHoQDfM9fd_1hHJMuGE/w500-h243/FT+Huachuca+Photo+%25282%2529.jpg" width="500" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Is it possible to create theater during a pandemic? My answer is a resounding yes! I am grateful to have had this experience.</div><div><br /></div><div>It is essential that we continue to tell our stories. I remember the industry after the Commercial Strike in 2000. Things changed. The next year there was another large change in the industry after the events of 9/11. As a result of Covid 19, we, as artists, are seeing our venues close and opportunities dwindle. Many have lost livelihoods. Tragically many have lost friends and loved ones to the virus. </div><div><br /></div><div>Now more than ever it is vital that the artistic community remain supportive, positive, and yes, creative.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXUkj8b7QNvIPGNOgTYPWD0Gfxu46KXiWHcgrZFNmoEcYk4X8vr2GZapyWUbVhlnZzdoXNrZc-PWHhhdoFaSHMKd8xQqfmtPJ6PlLFN1XQ3CUj26R7jbR2GeGRnrljSEaY4kE4_3F4cMSs/s751/Fort+Huachuca+Poster+%25281%2529.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><font size="2"><img border="0" data-original-height="751" data-original-width="750" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXUkj8b7QNvIPGNOgTYPWD0Gfxu46KXiWHcgrZFNmoEcYk4X8vr2GZapyWUbVhlnZzdoXNrZc-PWHhhdoFaSHMKd8xQqfmtPJ6PlLFN1XQ3CUj26R7jbR2GeGRnrljSEaY4kE4_3F4cMSs/w320-h320/Fort+Huachuca+Poster+%25281%2529.jpg" width="320" /></font></a></div><div><b><font size="5"><i>SheLA is the premiere spot for new, original, creative works by women playwrights and composers in LA. This summer, we're going digital!</i></font></b></div><div><b><font size="5"><i><br /></i></font></b></div><div><b><i><font size="5">SATURDAY, JULY 18, 2PM</font>PT<font size="5"> </font></i></b></div><div><b><i><font size="5"><br /></font></i></b></div><div><b><i><font size="5">FORT HUACHUCA </font></i></b></div><div><b><font size="5"><i>by Ailema Sousa</i></font></b></div><div><b><font size="5"><i>Directed by Ani Marderosian</i></font></b></div><div><b><font size="5"><i><br /></i></font></b></div><div><b><font size="5"><i>World War II. Arizona. African American nurses arrive on an army base camp for the biggest challenge of their lives: inequality, growing racial tension and a society that does not acknowledge their efforts, when all they want is to fight for their country.</i></font></b></div><div><br /></div><div><b><i><font size="5">Cast: Naima Herbrail Kidjo, Brittney McClendon, Brittany Shonka, Nicole Sousa, Casterline Villar, Donna Allen, Camille Mallet de Chauny, and Gilbert Roy.</font></i></b></div><div><b><i><br /></i></b></div><div><b><font size="5"><i>Tickets are available at:</i></font></b></div><div><b><font size="5"><i><a href="https://www.eventbrite.com/e/the-2020-shela-summer-theater-festival-tickets-107447055034">https://www.eventbrite.com/e/the-2020-shela-summer-theater-festival-tickets-107447055034</a></i></font></b></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8507441479242162503.post-41549671154397834572020-06-05T14:59:00.037-07:002020-06-12T23:00:32.205-07:00 A Memory of Civil Unrest <div><br /></div><div><div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="492" data-original-width="328" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZbv3V-p4UDhqxuHWr7a0XH5ZDMUeEKvPeKacRLokp7y6RjZD-F45KtZ_P6bwLqHvVQ1QUjCqTuESgGGDAFmZI9p72VrRBIeB7dCmKm-W_-zoV9MluFt2P0d2C-6AHfO1CrsCDiPFORzZ4/w213-h320/Scan_20200605+%25284%2529.jpg" width="213" /></div><font size="4"><b><i>R</i></b><b><i>ecent events made me remember a </i></b><b><i>spring night from my childhood...</i></b></font></div><div><br /></div><div>When I was growing up, I lived on a tree lined street in a mid western city with my mother, father, and little sister. My life revolved around school, Barbie Dolls, and playdates with my best friend.</div><div><br /></div><div>A few days before, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. had been assassinated. Tensions in many US cities were high.</div><div> </div><div>On the night of April 8, 1968, dinner was over, the kitchen cleaned, and my sister and I had joined our mother in her bedroom to settle in for a night of television. I don't remember what we were watching, but I remember when program stopped abruptly.</div><div><br /></div><div>"We interrupt this broadcast to bring you a special report."</div><div> </div><div>On screen was a reporter from the local CBS affiliate. He reported that rioting had</div><div>broken out in Avondale, a predominantly African American neighborhood.</div><div><br /></div><div>This was a different time. There were no twenty-four-hour news networks, no cable,</div><div>no satellite trucks, no computers or cellphones. Information was slowly coming into</div><div>the station. There was no film footage or photographs, just a report of escalating</div><div>violence.</div><div><br /></div><div>The TV reporter asked us to stay tuned, saying he would be back with more details as<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijeXDndIsWdFiZ-8GYXKrz_PYD-O0XBHXNx6als5R3Kkw39O2KBDmL2zt77_5lYBERmphsFvPrO_1qn5D5LJIqJP8HK3cMYZaxk64pXPG5wGouZzlW0zYvYbxOniAn7-wMmYrJ-3I4Vjwt/s435/Scan_20200605+%25285%2529.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="435" data-original-width="399" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijeXDndIsWdFiZ-8GYXKrz_PYD-O0XBHXNx6als5R3Kkw39O2KBDmL2zt77_5lYBERmphsFvPrO_1qn5D5LJIqJP8HK3cMYZaxk64pXPG5wGouZzlW0zYvYbxOniAn7-wMmYrJ-3I4Vjwt/w368-h400/Scan_20200605+%25285%2529.jpg" width="368" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On vacation in Plymouth MA<br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div>the story developed. Regular programming resumed as the phone rang. </div><div><br /></div><div>I don't know who was on the other end of the phone, but whoever it was delivered more disturbing news. The last thing my mother said before hanging up was, "I need to call your father."</div><div><br /></div><div>My dad had worked late and was still at his office near the University.<span style="text-align: center;"> </span>I think she tried to dial the familiar number on the rotary phone three times before the call was connected. She yelled into the phone. "You need to come home! They're rioting in Avondale!" She ended the conversation saying, "Whatever you do<i> don't go </i><i>through Avondale!"</i></div><div><br /></div><div>There were several routes from my dad's office to our home. His drive home should have taken no more than fifteen minutes. An hour later, my mother went downstairs to wait for</div><div>my father, trying to conceal her fears from my sister and me. This was becoming increasingly difficult as more people were calling to say what they were hearing or seeing. </div><div><br /></div><div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRWA_4NWYa9uQqLVbpdiXASV64st-G7GInrqCH-rEVOpGv5-JtpsnUis4-fXxK1WsAs33icRfzeBMLfjO-s_bWzRSdIHmCjzXEtQwVXHtIcK4zLmiwrLmCyPzBiE6QzKSJfcmdmJWPTOFx/s595/Scan_20200605+%25283%2529.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="595" data-original-width="447" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRWA_4NWYa9uQqLVbpdiXASV64st-G7GInrqCH-rEVOpGv5-JtpsnUis4-fXxK1WsAs33icRfzeBMLfjO-s_bWzRSdIHmCjzXEtQwVXHtIcK4zLmiwrLmCyPzBiE6QzKSJfcmdmJWPTOFx/w300-h400/Scan_20200605+%25283%2529.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With my dad & sister on Easter Sunday.</td></tr></tbody></table>Finally, we heard my dad's car pull into the driveway. </div><div><br /></div><div>My sister and I ran downstairs to greet him as we usually did when he came home from work, but the acrid smell of smoke stopped us at the top of the landing. </div><div><br /></div><div>"They're burning down Burnet Avenue! I didn’t see any police and people are running wild; breaking windows, looting, and I heard gunshots. It's a war zone!"</div><div><br /></div><div>My father had ignored my mother's plea to avoid Avondale, and instead drove into the</div><div>middle of the riot. In retrospect, and remembering the strong smell of smoke on his clothing,</div><div>I’m guessing my father parked his car and walked into the melee. He knew several business owners in the area. Knowing my dad, he would have wanted to help.</div><div><br /></div><div>I had never seen my parents disagree about anything. But on this night my mother yelled uncontrollably. "I told you to stay away from Avondale! You could have been killed!"</div><div> </div><div>For the first time in my life, my sister and I saw my mother cry. We quietly went back</div><div>upstairs. </div><div><br /></div><div>My world no longer made sense; my city was burning. People were shooting. My</div><div>dad used the word war.</div><div><br /></div><div>I was a child. </div><div><br /></div><div>I was scared.</div><div><br /></div><div>Through adult eyes, I realize my mother, while angry, cried tears of relief that my dad</div><div>had made it home safely.</div><div><br /></div><div>My sister and I went to bed early, but I couldn't sleep. I was terrified that the</div><div>rioters would come to our house miles away from the chaos. My mother assured me they</div><div>would not. I didn't believe her. </div><div><br /></div><div>Early the next morning my mother called the Reverend Mother at Sacred Heart</div><div>Academy, our school, to say that my sister and I would not be coming to school that</div><div>day. The Reverend Mother said, "Mrs. Allen, we've made the decision not to open</div><div>today. We too, are devastated about the events in our city and in our country."</div><div>Sacred Heart Academy was closed for the rest of the week.</div><div><br /></div><div>That afternoon, my family piled into our green Chevrolet and headed to Burnet</div><div>Avenue. The day before this had been a thriving business area. I remember an A&P,</div><div>two dry cleaners, a greengrocer, beauty and barber shops, a Rexall Drugstore with a</div><div>lunch counter, and a Texaco Gas station. There were offices of doctors, dentists</div><div>and other professionals. </div><div><br /></div><div>I knew this area, but on this day, it was unrecognizable. Things were quiet now as</div><div>residents and shop owners were cleaning up and assessing damage. Some buildings</div><div>had been burned and several families displaced. Other buildings had broken windows</div><div>or were in the process of being boarded up. Some buildings had the words<i> Soul</i></div><div><i>Brother</i> painted on the plywood boards covering the windows. My parents knew several</div><div>business owners on Burnet Avenue, and on this day, we visited several. </div><div><br /></div><div>I remember stopping at a dry cleaner. When the owner gave my sister and I a lollipop,</div><div>I asked, "Why do so many buildings have <i>Soul Brother</i> painted across the front?"</div><div><br /></div><div>He explained. "The businesses that say Soul Brother<i> </i>are owned by Black people. This</div><div>lets the rioters know not to damage our property."</div><div><br /></div><div>I was confused. "But it's okay to damage the other buildings?"</div><div><br /></div><div>My dad answered. "No, it's not right! But people are angry.,"</div><div><br /></div><div>My five-year-old sister asked, "But why are they angry?"</div><div><br /></div><div>The adults looked to one another. </div><div><br /></div><div>My memory stops there.</div><div><br /></div><div>Over the years, there would be many discussions about Martin Luther King Jr., the</div><div>Civil Rights Movement, racial inequalities, and being Black in America. But those</div><div>discussions would come later. On this day, my family became witnesses to a dark</div><div>chapter in our city's history.</div><div><br /></div><div>In the days after the assassination of Dr. King, there were riots in several major US</div><div>cities. It was the greatest wave of social unrest the United States had experienced</div><div>since the Civil War. The riots in my mid western city lasted for two nights. The National</div><div>Guard was called to restore the peace. More than two hundred people were injured</div><div>while almost three hundred were arrested. Two people were killed.</div><div><br /></div><div>I had not thought about this incident until the 1992 riots in Los Angeles following the</div><div>acquittal of the police officers accused of using excessive force and beating Rodney</div><div>King; an event which had been videotaped and viewed in television broadcasts. </div><div><br /></div><div>While I had been in Los Angeles for seven years, my parents didn't like me living</div><div>alone in such a big city. I called my parents to say I was fine and far away</div><div>from the rioting. This was not true. I watched the fires on Hollywood Boulevard from</div><div>the safety of my apartment building's rooftop in a residential area. I was close enough</div><div>to hear the voices of the looters and rioters just blocks away. Smoke was in the air for</div><div>days. Just like that eight-year-old girl, I was scared.</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm reminded of that incident from my childhood today. I'm not scared. I'm angry,</div><div>stressed, and hoping this time, just maybe the message of racial inequality will be</div><div>heard. This is as I listen to the sirens and helicopters around my home in response to</div><div>the protests over murder of George Floyd in Minneapolis.</div><div><br /></div><div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCwN5IdQMueDdzYI5zFJNCcNSC7S17LFDJjVanZXkPx5_c-CtmjQvVwD0ij8Ea1QU0o-WMzcrKecDCtiPmFHS25iF4kqkDqn1bT9PWnIWEaL3Ki1KlI5tmyks792ZZjBIqpLUuoU1yhx6P/s865/Scan_20200605+%25282%2529.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="649" data-original-width="865" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCwN5IdQMueDdzYI5zFJNCcNSC7S17LFDJjVanZXkPx5_c-CtmjQvVwD0ij8Ea1QU0o-WMzcrKecDCtiPmFHS25iF4kqkDqn1bT9PWnIWEaL3Ki1KlI5tmyks792ZZjBIqpLUuoU1yhx6P/w400-h300/Scan_20200605+%25282%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At my sister's backyard wedding<br /></td></tr></tbody></table>I've imagined myself going back to visit myself as a child the night the riots started. I'd hug her, then assure her that she will be safe. I'd let her know that this will not be the last time she'll experience civil unrest in her lifetime. I'd remind her to be safe and smart as she moves through life. I'd tell her to see the best in people while remembering that nobody is perfect. I'd tell her to agree to disagree, and to always</div><div>keep an open mind. I'd explain that she'll have to accept the fact that some people's minds will never be changed. Then, I'd ask her what she would like to talk about. We'd have an honest conversation about things important to a child, even the difficult messy subjects. </div><div><br /></div><div>Most importantly, I'd let her know, it's okay to be scared because sometimes the</div><div>world can be a scary place. </div><div><br /></div><div>We got through 1968.</div><div><br /></div><div>We got through 1992.</div><div><br /></div><div>And despite everything that has happened this year, we will get through 2020.</div><div><br /></div><div>I believe this. I must.</div></div><div><font face="georgia"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></font></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><br /><br /></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8507441479242162503.post-27146926172875795782020-05-27T23:04:00.076-07:002020-06-02T19:14:38.617-07:00Remembering Samuel French<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div><b><font size="4"><i>During quarantine, my mind has been wandering to places I'd like to visit. Unfortunately, one place no longer exists. </i></font></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="119" data-original-width="179" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIuEPWrtCwwM1ExPn2XBhUH2e8V2iMZkTCl6BXXX7bNYfasykGvElVSItAwPGfsR5Qv31y5n30r5n1QxC1DJ4yQkQNEqvmm2_naru8zxIYaAIZa7hC51PkSu_g8d674UP4_sZoFrKVmlgt/w400-h266/th.jpg" width="400" /></div><div><br /></div><div>One of the first places I went when I moved to Los Angeles was Samuel French Theater Bookshop on Sunset Boulevard.</div><div><br /></div><div>I was familiar with Samuel French. While studying at Emerson College in Boston, I visited Baker's Plays (their Boston store). When I was in New York I went to their massive two story store in Midtown Manhattan that had everything for the working actor. </div><div><br /></div><div>The Boston store closed years ago. When my husband and I were visiting New York in 2017, I was shocked to learn that the Midtown store was long gone - I didn't see how this was possible. The woman at the Samuel French office said the only brick & mortar store was in Los Angeles. At that time New York actors still had access to the Drama Book Shop. </div><div><br /></div><div>When we returned home I made a special trip to Samuel French, simply because I could. In the back of my mind I feared this store would also be closing. The closing happened sonner than later in March of 2019. Many were robbed of a final visit when the store was vandalized two weeks before the scheduled closing; it never reopened.</div><div><br /></div><div>Like many others, I have many memories of the Hollywood store. When I first moved to LA, I purchased books, guides and directories for actors relocating to Hollywood. I was thrilled that Samuel French was walking distance from my new home. Later, I remember giving the name of an obscure play to an employee who climbed a ladder that reached to the ceiling; a few moments later he returned with the play. Once, I needed a peice of sheet music for an audition. Hollywood Sheet Music (another place long gone) had sold out. They told me to go down the street to Samuel French who, of course, had what I needed. </div><div><br /></div><div>Samuel French had been a part of the Hollywood and acting community since 1947. The store lives on online. </div><div><br /></div><div>When the LA store closed, there was one last brick and mortar store in London. It too has closed for good. The Drama Book Shop in NYC was also on it's way to closing peranently. A group including Lin-Manuel Miranda purchased the New York Store. "The Drama Book Shop" was open for nearly 100 years, but had been forced to close its West 40th Street location.The Drama Bookshop was scheduled to reopen in March 2020 on West 39th Street between Seventh and Eighth avenues. The store's reopening will be something else to look forward to once New York City reopens. </div><div><br /></div><div>Many actors, writers, filmmakers and others in the performing arts community often dropped into Samuel French not only for books, but for inspiration and a sense of community. It was a place to go before or after an audition in the area. Later, a small performance space was added. I always looked forward to visiting the store the day after the Tony Awards to purchase new plays for my library. </div><div><br /></div><div>Sure, you can still find most items online, but it's not the same. Samuel French Film and Theater Bookshop is now a part of Hollywood's history. I along with so many others will and miss it, and remember it fondly.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8507441479242162503.post-62042763430146543212017-04-20T20:14:00.000-07:002017-04-20T20:14:46.093-07:00Concluding A Book Series: It's PersonalAbout ten years ago I had an idea for a short story that rumbled around my brain for a couple of years. When I finally sat down to write my story, <strong><em>Time for Coffee</em></strong>, it had grown too long to be a short story; I had a novel on my hands. Several drafts later, a friend and mentor asked me if I had ever considered turning my manuscript into a series. That's when my stand alone novel morphed into a four part series I entitled, <em><strong>Fall Again</strong></em>.<br />
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Had I started out to write a series of novels, I doubt I ever would have started writing. Then, the thought of writing a single novel was overwhelming since my original idea was for a short story. I probably would have forgotten about the project. Thankfully, I had been writing for several months and had strong story and characters. Once I started thinking in terms of a series, the division of my material into separate novels was easier than anticipated. <br />
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Fall-Again-Beginnings-Unrealized-Romance-ebook/dp/B00ZKYSJM2/ref=sr_1_4?ie=UTF8&qid=1492566554&sr=8-4&keywords=donna+figueroa" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgms5YEENXepT2k15MsI6LYtJjclpkHQtXDni36gQcyfRSUZCuk5j99et1DajgeaQTr5fUkIL3PlODWk66ElgC_8ttFHTMUhncxhvPcxg18oCjF_5lzLUP2r5DmfxkmT0U_sXOeKofdLTyr/s200/51F7ljDcvnL.jpg" width="133" /></a></div>
<strong><em>Fall Again</em></strong> is a contemporary romance series set in the world of actors and other working artists. It's the story of Marc and Lauren, and their closest friends. It is set in New York, Los Angeles and a few points in between. The story spans twenty-two years. There are four books in the series:<br />
<a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B017XF6ST6/ref=series_rw_dp_sw" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh_C9kJaHwO1WgupfqYo5brXhRrmnZFago6YfknnF28KenoTQEOFqkGEUCBgF0kG_9l8QXp8JGykIPhbiSN0YmL6ZkgKcgoxvV3ip5bKFoG32gy_FdsWBzL4K-oIewZ6U6CiUU0p3W64qe/s200/51m7ACR8hmL.jpg" width="133" /></a><em><strong>Beginnings An Unrealized Romance</strong></em> - Marc & Lauren meet, fall in love and separate without closure.<br />
<em><strong>Lost Boy Marc the Interim Years</strong></em> - Marcs life and career during his separation from Lauren.<br />
<strong><em>California Girl-Lauren the Interim Years</em></strong> - Lauren's life and career during her separation from Marc.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdbbVbzGyClDya5rcDMLo9D20KV6Zmb3i9XchoZPJuEgE7P6h6fgsEuTXf5iuKITaHR4ckuZcJjverLt9ZV7ZYKX7L34ybjBvztAcMpBnngYYWmRuf9kD92FnUffUP5WID0SnUPqOxuiQe/s1600/81ir167UacL.__BG0%252C0%252C0%252C0_FMpng_AC_UL320_SR214%252C320_.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdbbVbzGyClDya5rcDMLo9D20KV6Zmb3i9XchoZPJuEgE7P6h6fgsEuTXf5iuKITaHR4ckuZcJjverLt9ZV7ZYKX7L34ybjBvztAcMpBnngYYWmRuf9kD92FnUffUP5WID0SnUPqOxuiQe/s200/81ir167UacL.__BG0%252C0%252C0%252C0_FMpng_AC_UL320_SR214%252C320_.png" width="133" /></a><em><strong>Reunion A Romance Realized</strong></em> - Marc & Lauren reunite years later.<br />
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Four novels now allowed me to delve deeper into the characters lives and experiences.<br />
For me, writing came easily. I could always make time to write. When I experienced blocks, I was able to work through them fairly easily by remembering who my characters were and staying true to them. During a couple of blocks, new characters introduced themselves and guided me through the block as I incorporated them into the existing story.<br />
One of my favorite characters was discovered this way.<br />
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Since my story takes place over two decades, I had to be attentive to details. For example making a phone and air travel have changed drastically from 1989-2010. I enjoyed the creative part of the process.<br />
What I never enjoyed were the technical aspects of self publishing. Formatting and uploading files became easier over time, though I freely admit I wanted to throw my laptop across the room on several occasions. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUCMa-riJ8LNeMuzP_PvWfpU88hBpkFSbmJIPLXakhgz73LHV5pmdmy2hmBXKxEj2dDF60auQ_YAXVJtPlu-fEKCnGyJaKDEa5bzQGV6uuJLusgV0rq7JACEQo0_cxmsHusmLocGPKeXjg/s1600/81YwUzooP1L.__BG0%252C0%252C0%252C0_FMpng_AC_UL320_SR210%252C320_.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUCMa-riJ8LNeMuzP_PvWfpU88hBpkFSbmJIPLXakhgz73LHV5pmdmy2hmBXKxEj2dDF60auQ_YAXVJtPlu-fEKCnGyJaKDEa5bzQGV6uuJLusgV0rq7JACEQo0_cxmsHusmLocGPKeXjg/s200/81YwUzooP1L.__BG0%252C0%252C0%252C0_FMpng_AC_UL320_SR210%252C320_.png" width="131" /></a>For me, the fourth and final installment of the series was the most difficult to write, because it was the most personal. In 2013, my father became ill. I was able to be with him at the end of his life. This was a difficult time for me and my family. Late at night when I couldn't sleep, I worked on my manuscript, escaping my own reality and finding sanctuary in the world I'd created. One night after an especially trying day, I wrote a scene that took place at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art (LACMA). My characters are dressed in cocktail attire and sipping champagne on what is to be an important night. The scene ends in a romantic moment at the Urban Lights Sculpture just outside of the museum. (<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Urban_Light">https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Urban_Light</a>) Later, when considering images for REUNION's cover, the Urban Lights sculpture seemed like a natural choice.<br />
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A few nights later, I was at my dad's bedside as he slept. I was reading and making notes on a hard copy of my manuscript when he woke up, saw what I was doing and asked, "Is that a book?" I was able to tell him about the project, not knowing this would be the last conversation I'd ever have with him. When he passed a few days later on April 15, 2013, I promised myself that I would see this project through to it's completion. The first novel was published in 2015, while the second and third installments were published in 2016. REUNION, the final book in the series, was published on April 15 of this year, the fourth anniversary of my dad's passing. <br />
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As a new writer, I've learned several lessons during my journey. These are all things I'd heard before, but still had to experience on my own for them to fully make sense. For those of you beginning your writers journey, and especially to those who will be self publishing, here are a few things to keep in mind:<br />
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<strong>- Believe in the strength of your story.</strong><br />
<strong>- Always be true to your characters. You know them better than anyone else. </strong><br />
<strong>- The more you write, the better writer you become.</strong><br />
<strong>- Find Beta readers who will give you honest opinions.</strong><br />
<strong>- Find an editor, and be open to their suggestions. Remember, you still have the final say. </strong><br />
<strong>- Publish <em>only</em> when you're ready.</strong><br />
<strong>- Market your book, but do some studying first to save time money and energy. Remember,</strong><br />
<strong>- Marketing is a Rubix cube. Find what works best for you.</strong><br />
<strong>- Some will read and enjoy your work, while others will not.</strong><br />
<strong>- TRUST YOU INSTINCTS</strong><br />
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The most valuable piece of advice I could give to anyone who's contemplating a writing project, <em>start writing.</em> Stephen King said it best; <strong><em>"The scariest moment is always just before you start."</em></strong><br />
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I began thinking about this project as a short story almost ten years ago. I began writing the original stand alone novel in November of 2012, and completed the series with the fourth and final installment this April. It's been strange not constantly thinking about my story and characters. (Yes, I continued to make minor changes until I <em>published.</em>)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-rVYW2hLJMbROQIoyuHvmjXi2gj31fU9bMBfYrkuByJbZ3_LbQqb7S9jORB3KWtw98Eh9NJOKEptsSZfasUWgTfe9l0E32stbDmh_wNMvZg4rDzZzvGTBL3EkuCgkqlPC8HiUBvMhUVvL/s1600/untitled+%2528122%2529.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="127" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-rVYW2hLJMbROQIoyuHvmjXi2gj31fU9bMBfYrkuByJbZ3_LbQqb7S9jORB3KWtw98Eh9NJOKEptsSZfasUWgTfe9l0E32stbDmh_wNMvZg4rDzZzvGTBL3EkuCgkqlPC8HiUBvMhUVvL/s200/untitled+%2528122%2529.png" width="200" /></a> The last few days have been rather lonely; I'm experiencing a sort of writer's<em> empty nest syndrome.</em> I'm toying with the idea of spinning off two of the supporting characters from <em>Fall Again </em>into their own independent story. I also have a first draft of something completely unrelated to <em>Fall Again</em> that could one day become a stand alone novel. In the meantime, there are many non-writing tasks I could do, like cleaning house; something I've neglected since I began writing. Or maybe, I'll just sit back and relax for a while. I think I've earned it.<br />
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Fall-Again-Beginnings-Unrealized-Romance-ebook/dp/B00ZKYSJM2/ref=sr_1_4?ie=UTF8&qid=1492566554&sr=8-4&keywords=donna+figueroa">Fall Again: Beginnings An Unrealized Romance</a><br />
<a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B017XF6ST6/ref=series_rw_dp_sw">Fall Again: Lost Boy Marc the Interim Years</a><br />
<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Fall-Again-California-Lauren-Interim-ebook/dp/B01LYRBT1Z/ref=pd_sbs_351_2?_encoding=UTF8&psc=1&refRID=DTRY0K8VGCR0ABXR51MC">Fall Again California Girl Lauren the Interim Years</a><br />
<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Fall-Again-Reunion-Romance-Realized-ebook/dp/B06ZZ9JC5D/ref=pd_sbs_351_1?_encoding=UTF8&psc=1&refRID=GSK6J3SD7JK3Q5K6DM87">Fall Again Reunion A Romance Realized</a><br />
<a href="http://www.fallagainseries.com/">www.fallagainseries.com</a> <br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8507441479242162503.post-78042501525214203322017-03-09T15:30:00.000-08:002017-03-09T15:33:41.648-08:00My Life and Times with a Cultural Icon: My Friend Barbie<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfKoF_3Qd13ByKZEFPTnoZYneqBkOx4OxzqJL1jcZnjJkbgmLQ5dwYOuaUCJjhaoL8YBTohyphenhyphenxWxyaGHp8o5Lozuq5PXEGGnuaol0jIF8bNiHxMw4OzTINnxKOYzd8_XUoLqSkKHCB8IZPY/s1600/635895675387339172-Barbie-2016FashionistasCollection.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfKoF_3Qd13ByKZEFPTnoZYneqBkOx4OxzqJL1jcZnjJkbgmLQ5dwYOuaUCJjhaoL8YBTohyphenhyphenxWxyaGHp8o5Lozuq5PXEGGnuaol0jIF8bNiHxMw4OzTINnxKOYzd8_XUoLqSkKHCB8IZPY/s640/635895675387339172-Barbie-2016FashionistasCollection.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><strong>The spring 2016 Barbie "Fashionistas" line will include dolls with petite, tall and curvy physiques.</strong></td></tr>
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An old girlfriend of mine was in the news last year. Her name is Barbie: the perfect-I can-do- anything-girl with the unattainable figure. She made headlines because she's received a major--or should I say <em>several </em>makeovers. The spring 2016 <em>Fashionistas</em> line of dolls will feature four body types (including its "original" version), seven skin tones, 22 eye colors and 24 hairstyles. Now, many little girls, (and I'm sure a few older girls) will have the opportunity to have a Barbie doll that more accurately reflects them. <br />
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Mattel's Barbie has been on the market since 1959 and has been a presence in the lives of millions of girls worldwide. She has been connected to 125 careers, has wardrobe pieces designed by some of the world's top fashion designers, and has <em>perfected the art of perfection</em>. Barbie is a cultural icon. At age fifty-six, she looks fantastic!<br />
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The Barbie doll was invented in 1959 by <a data-component="link" data-ordinal="1" data-source="inlineLink" data-type="internalLink" href="http://inventors.about.com/od/bstartinventions/a/The-History-Of-Barbie-Dolls_2.htm">Ruth Handler</a> (co-founder of <a data-component="link" data-ordinal="2" data-source="inlineLink" data-type="internalLink" href="http://inventors.about.com/od/bstartinventions/a/The-History-Of-Barbie-Dolls_3.htm">Mattel</a>), whose own daughter was named Barbara. (Barbie's boyfriend, Ken, was named after Ruth's son.)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQm3UqJ_ZfEarMeTZtJJaQz7OX-FCQNPX_XK7WNHr2bQmpFsHfecjSfAoJ-1RI3ubhYkOz1tkW-CG47C8sPOwhMYeOUexwCKKxFcUJzE1PNHE5U78BHY5DBx2QyGEhccnnZVZH9KWlq0FP/s1600/4c81339607a8f07b835700e88a19dbc1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQm3UqJ_ZfEarMeTZtJJaQz7OX-FCQNPX_XK7WNHr2bQmpFsHfecjSfAoJ-1RI3ubhYkOz1tkW-CG47C8sPOwhMYeOUexwCKKxFcUJzE1PNHE5U78BHY5DBx2QyGEhccnnZVZH9KWlq0FP/s1600/4c81339607a8f07b835700e88a19dbc1.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Barbie's German influence, Lilli</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Barbie was inspired by a German doll, <em>Lilli. </em>This doll was definitely <em>not</em><em> </em>for children. Lilli was a flirtatious and brazen high end call girl. Originally, she was created as a comic strip character for a Hamburg newspaper in 1956. In the comics, Lilli was witty, irreverent and sexually uninhibited.<br />
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The Lilli doll was originally sold as an adult novelty toy that could be purchased in tobacco shops, bars and adult-themed toy stores. According to Robin Gerber, the author of <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Barbie-Ruth-Worlds-Famous-Created/dp/B0030EG1BK/ref=tmm_hrd_title_0?ie=UTF8&qid=1425168379&sr=8-1"><em>Barbie and Ruth</em></a>, “Men got Lilli dolls as gag gifts at bachelor parties, put them on their car dashboard, dangled them from the rearview mirror, or gave them to girlfriends as a suggestive keepsake.”<br />
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The dolls eventually became popular with children. In 1956, one of the dolls caught the attention of Ruth Handler's fifteen year old daughter, Barbara, while on vacation in Switzerland. Three years later, the first Barbie doll was unveiled at the New York Toy Show. The full name of the first doll was Barbie Millicent Roberts, from Willows, Wisconsin. Her job was that of teenage fashion model. And the rest as they say, is history.<br />
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A few years ago I shared Barbie's racy past with my mother who replied, "I knew there was something I didn't like about that doll! My first instinct was to never let you play with those things!" To say that my mother was overprotective would be a gross understatement. I'm grateful she never knew of Barbie's German counterpart until recently. I know several women, who as children, were never allowed to play with Barbies because of her sophisticated and sensuous appearance.<br />
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My own relationship with Barbie began when I was old enough to take notice of the Saturday morning commercials that aired during network cartoon blocks of Saturday mornings past. Remember, the fact that these cartoons entertained children was secondary to their primary purpose, which was to sell toys.<br />
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I remember the Barbie commercials that featured the exciting life of this plastic superstar. Barbie had the perfect house, an outfit for every occasion and a boyfriend. She was beautiful, confident and led a glamorous life full of adventure. I wanted to be a part of that world.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/9hhjjhYGQtY?list=PLC36B6061AAEEB1BD" width="560"></iframe>
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At age five, I received my first<em> Barbies</em> (Barbie, her friend Midge, and a carrying case of clothes), hand-me-downs from my older cousin. My world changed forever! <br />
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My father always regretted never purchasing Mattel stock back then. Over the years my younger sister and I would accumulate about thirty dolls, Dream houses, carrying cases, vehicles and many outfits. As a little girl I had plenty of beautiful baby dolls. But after Barbie came into my life, I never looked at them again. I joined the Barbie Fan Club, read Barbie Magazine and Barbie novels. (This was in a pre-internet world.)<br />
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For me, Barbie would become more than a doll. She became a friend and mentor. I'll stop short of calling her a role model. When I was seven, my family moved to a new house. The move meant that I was no longer able to see my best friend Beverly everyday as I had since we were toddlers. There were no kids my age on our new street. In school, I was shy and introverted. Barbie filled a void. <br />
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With Barbie, I elevated make believe to an art form. My <em>Barbies</em> took vacations to the Caribbean, Asia and Europe. One summer a few of my Barbie dolls went on an archeological dig in my backyard.<br />
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While my <em>Barbies always</em> worked as teenaged fashion models, they explored different careers. At one point, I had a doll who was a news reporter, one who was a makeup artist and another who was a teacher. I had dolls who were rock stars, photographers and artists. A couple were attending college. And yes, I even had one doll who was a wife and mother. One of my Francie dolls (Francie was <em>Barbie's Modern</em> cousin from California) was married to Alan, Ken's best friend and the only male doll in the line I ever had. (He was a gift from my grandmother.) Together, they were the proud parents of a <em>Little Kiddle</em>. These miniature dolls were not part of the Barbie line, but my sister received one for a birthday. We condensed Francie's pregnancy to an afternoon one summer.<br />
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There were times when the dolls accompanied me to school as part of elaborate dioramas. I considered dioramas "acting jobs" for my Barbies. Little did I know I was foreshadowing my own future as an actor. The detailed tableaus were done as parts of book reports in English, a report on Paris in French, and once, Barbie portrayed Mary Magdalene in a religion class project (I went to Catholic school.) My projects featuring Barbie always earned me A's, and maybe a little extra attention from my teachers and classmates. <br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC5uFrYRQpDnPH5yaYhNoR_qxlqkXmt_37_1JnZLhntSPITvoo7f1n9PZMRLfJScsGLyRDxNhXmNGeo4K7ey1MzCtbVEJ4mpENGAwARx2Rk2rz5TFowXxnKSk4Ggu1D7g48_UPcJY_hGMk/s1600/DSC06506.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC5uFrYRQpDnPH5yaYhNoR_qxlqkXmt_37_1JnZLhntSPITvoo7f1n9PZMRLfJScsGLyRDxNhXmNGeo4K7ey1MzCtbVEJ4mpENGAwARx2Rk2rz5TFowXxnKSk4Ggu1D7g48_UPcJY_hGMk/s200/DSC06506.JPG" width="133" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Contemporary Christie<br />
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</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgahXW35sT6DZhqNSea9cr7uNS6puHg35Tel4cxCUHdhywRIdPFWZ7CvZ9CLPaSOmhOlrtfv78OEuMv7gPYesSHltuZoIOggrMNu_fXS5M4nAViyxAtIYRmFZVHT65rha7M2PMzatsRVot8/s1600/185xNxChristie-Doll.jpg.pagespeed.ic.jWme6jy-x2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgahXW35sT6DZhqNSea9cr7uNS6puHg35Tel4cxCUHdhywRIdPFWZ7CvZ9CLPaSOmhOlrtfv78OEuMv7gPYesSHltuZoIOggrMNu_fXS5M4nAViyxAtIYRmFZVHT65rha7M2PMzatsRVot8/s200/185xNxChristie-Doll.jpg.pagespeed.ic.jWme6jy-x2.jpg" width="185" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Christie was introduced in 1968 </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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In 1968, I received a Talking Christie for Christmas. Christie was Barbie's <em>black</em> friend, and the first full sized African-American doll in the line. (Black Francie in 1967 was the first.) I honestly don't remember thinking that this doll that resembled me. I do remember thinking she was beautiful. <br />
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There were two items in Barbie's world that my parents never purchased for my sister and me: a wedding gown, and Ken (Barbie's longtime boyfriend.) I don't know if these were conscious decisions by my parents, but in retrospect, it makes sense. My parents constantly told us that our educations should be the most important part of our young lives. Perhaps thoughts of boyfriends and dream weddings would be bright shiny diversions. Later, when we became teenagers, dating was never encouraged because boys could distract us from our studies. (I didn't have a boyfriend until I graduated from high school.) My parents were raising us to be independent, intelligent and confident women. <br />
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Barbie remained a constant in my life until I was twelve, a little longer than most girls. On the first day of seventh grade I met a new girl, Amy, who'd transferred to my school. Seventh grade is a rough place, especially for a new girl. I saw her sitting by herself and introduced myself, which was a small victory in itself considering my shyness. We spent that first day together as I showed her the campus and helped her navigate the large school. Amy was confident, outgoing and fun. She wore makeup, had great clothes... and a boyfriend. I quickly realized that Amy was a <em>cool </em>girl. It was only a matter of time before she found her way to the cool clique, though we'd always remain friendly.<br />
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But after that first week, and influenced by Amy's example, I began to pay attention to myself. I was now interested in clothes for myself instead of Barbie. I started experimenting with makeup and reading Teen and Seventeen magazines. I was growing up and developing opinions and a style of my own. Most importantly, it was becoming easier for me to make friends. I no longer <em>needed</em> Barbie. Our <em>friendship </em>had lasted for seven years, but it was finally time to go our separate ways.<br />
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For years, my dolls were stored in the attic of the house where I grew up. When my parents sold their house and moved into a condominium, I lovingly packed up the dolls and their extensive wardrobe before shipping them to my home in California. They're currently in a plastic storage container in the back of a closet in my home office. <br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7APluT4_QwlgnRGvfskZK1Mua-YHaxLgcwb2tP48c_5L90PlGGsCCyGwMGvYPasJadgmzhIYalODaDd6YpjKAielf6wSas2sLIh4FEkQ3Efz-_Y5Jc67KPlVB9A4nY9nlAklwhHsFdyHb/s1600/untitled+%252817%2529.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7APluT4_QwlgnRGvfskZK1Mua-YHaxLgcwb2tP48c_5L90PlGGsCCyGwMGvYPasJadgmzhIYalODaDd6YpjKAielf6wSas2sLIh4FEkQ3Efz-_Y5Jc67KPlVB9A4nY9nlAklwhHsFdyHb/s200/untitled+%252817%2529.png" width="139" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Teresa Barbie's Latina friend in 1988 </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj7Zbut_ROdbClsnZdL5Rd3jGUIUOBONI23e6xRAvM16ZynV1w4frdP4v6TxV51Wmp8AJrvAI93azj0pRJJykFqEEGrFY_3SkkES3jYJ5LVgDnqvsuG-yYir3xoGdLUejSuAXAqLQRfe5A/s1600/9602441972_cfe9e554ea.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj7Zbut_ROdbClsnZdL5Rd3jGUIUOBONI23e6xRAvM16ZynV1w4frdP4v6TxV51Wmp8AJrvAI93azj0pRJJykFqEEGrFY_3SkkES3jYJ5LVgDnqvsuG-yYir3xoGdLUejSuAXAqLQRfe5A/s200/9602441972_cfe9e554ea.jpg" width="132" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Teresa Now</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Many times, while shopping at retailers who have entire aisles dedicated to Barbie, I find myself looking at the new dolls. For me it's like visiting old friends. The Barbie universe has become quite diverse. For several years you've been able to find Barbies with different complexions and hair textures which reflect different cultures and ethnicities. For example, Teresa, (Barbie's Latina friend), joined Barbie's world in 1988. <br />
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Over the past few days I've read different responses to the new petite, tall and curvy <em>Barbies</em>. Most are positive. Many comments come from mom's who are glad their little girls now have dolls that project more realistic and varied body images. Some little girls called <em>Curvy Barbie</em> "<em>chubby</em>." (Poor Barbie. Her figure has been a topic of conversation for decades.) In focus groups, little girls have overwhelmingly gravitated to the doll with blue hair (think Katy Perry.) To me, they're all just pretty dolls. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB3ROX5AX8kuHHyCyosqTnALp0-UtEmSZMRk399zUp_OdtDu6-YXjBdvN7TRTCSBCSQ-rlvrOQrIr5BQAz90EVNI1aX2oRR61MSeMP2GfQeisjS6R7eKOBhabiKD8CR_Z2w10-1CIE8-bp/s1600/f8b48a714de149e4aec8c4e15c9e4bd6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB3ROX5AX8kuHHyCyosqTnALp0-UtEmSZMRk399zUp_OdtDu6-YXjBdvN7TRTCSBCSQ-rlvrOQrIr5BQAz90EVNI1aX2oRR61MSeMP2GfQeisjS6R7eKOBhabiKD8CR_Z2w10-1CIE8-bp/s1600/f8b48a714de149e4aec8c4e15c9e4bd6.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Classic Figure</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Over the years, cruel insults have been hurled at Barbie. She's been called too skinny, too busty and far too sexy for a child's toy. Many have called her a bad influence and a poor role model. Honestly, isn't this a bit much? Shouldn't little girls look to their mothers, teachers and other prominent--and <em>real</em> women in their lives when looking for positive influences and role models? While Barbie may be a cultural icon, in the end, she's only a doll. <br />
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As a little girl, I adored Barbie. She served a purpose by helping me imagine the world of possibilities ahead of me. She was a devoted friend and was always there when I needed her. When the time was right, I put her away along with my other childhood toys, and said goodbye. <br />
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I never thought Barbie was too thin, busty or sexy. I never worried or cared that I'd never attain her perfect figure, have her flowing long hair or be successful in numerous careers. I accepted Barbie just as she was...just like<em> she</em> accepted me.<br />
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<em><strong>Here are some additional vintage commercials that were too good not to share! The 1970's spot features Maureen McCormick; Marcia Brady from THE BRADY BUNCH.</strong></em><br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8507441479242162503.post-16626736688833506052016-04-03T20:34:00.000-07:002016-04-24T20:16:30.128-07:00It's Personal: Your Story, Your Way<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLgofS7m2qCpxAG3XF1MoGDCR6GqyeZAfhF_UNPFZISS9TaAhnws1uhYF8IhFJASD_aF1baQeqLPzth0TrWXGz_LOgW4LNpBv2YhhyphenhyphenfSsHmVcumBZFqGBttI4qmfwsHMxripSs5M_MHhBA/s1600/images51ZQ03SX.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="257" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLgofS7m2qCpxAG3XF1MoGDCR6GqyeZAfhF_UNPFZISS9TaAhnws1uhYF8IhFJASD_aF1baQeqLPzth0TrWXGz_LOgW4LNpBv2YhhyphenhyphenfSsHmVcumBZFqGBttI4qmfwsHMxripSs5M_MHhBA/s400/images51ZQ03SX.jpg" width="400" /></a><span lang="EN-ZA" style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">I’d like to share a childhood memory. I had just turned seven and
was on vacation with my family. We’d spent a week in New England where my
sister and I saw the ocean for the first time. Before we returned to Ohio, we
spent a couple of days in New York City.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none;">
<span lang="EN-ZA" style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">Even as a child, I loved New York and had looked forward to this part of our vacation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On this, my first visit I enjoyed the hustle, bustle and excitement of the city. I loved going to the top of the Empire State Building,
riding the subway and the extravagant show at Radio City Music Hall.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-ZA" style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">However, there was one thing that bothered me on this visit to the
Big Apple--and the incident has continued to bother me for years. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-ZA" style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">The incident took place during our visit to Liberty Island. It
was a hot summer day, but the ferry ride across New Yok Harbour was very pleasant.
The views of the city were spectacular, while Lady Liberty left me awestruck. Once we
arrived on the island, I remember the smells of hotdogs and popcorn. I also remember
a very long line to board the elevator that took visitors to the top of the
statue; something I'd dreamed of doing ever since I'd learned this was possible. My parents said it was too hot to walk to the top of the statue, so we’d admire the
statue from the ground. While disappointed, that’s not what upset me.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-ZA" style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">There were a lot of people on the island that day, including a
large group of children who were playing in a grassy area and speaking a
different language. I was fascinated by what could have been either Spanish or
Italian. Close to the children was flock of pigeons. I watched these children
run into the pigeons who quickly took flight. For a few brief moments the
children and birds became a single energized unit. For a seven year old from
the Midwest, this was an amazing sight. In my excitement I pointed to the
children and the scattering pigeons as I pulled on my mother’s skirt. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-ZA" style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">“Mom! Look at the<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> flock</i>
of children!” My choice of words was deliberate, and in my seven year old mind,
quite clever.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-ZA" style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">Instead of looking at the children, my mother was looking at me
and shaking head. “No, Donna. The word <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">flock
</i>refers to birds. You should have used the word <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">group</i> in referring to the children.”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-ZA" style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">And that reprimand was what ruined my trip to Liberty Island.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfVPzsanqz-LPetTBWcOmMw13jlkgxxfQTuC9FSSoXtHVdufg8zdhLLIK-7wbSQTodOBr38-jhcyrclfi6anzWjV__Z_K1jPYlCJlag67K2dfX-1HRP0qPj8wvsnLmsBtAM0I304CkysIE/s1600/untitled+%252853%2529.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img border="0" height="245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfVPzsanqz-LPetTBWcOmMw13jlkgxxfQTuC9FSSoXtHVdufg8zdhLLIK-7wbSQTodOBr38-jhcyrclfi6anzWjV__Z_K1jPYlCJlag67K2dfX-1HRP0qPj8wvsnLmsBtAM0I304CkysIE/s320/untitled+%252853%2529.png" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span lang="EN-ZA" style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">Of course, I knew the word flock referred to birds. But in
this case the word flock was better way to describe the children in this
heightened moment as nature and humanity combined to create a few moments of sheer joy. And I was joyful-- until I was
corrected for describing an event <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">as I
saw it</i> that hot afternoon. At seven, while making a rather keen observation,
I was not equipped to take on an argument about vocabulary and usage with my
mother, a teacher and perfectionist when it came to the English language. For years,
I refused to believe that my choice of words was wrong.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="color: black;">Years later in junior high school English class, I first heard the word, metaphor; <span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12pt;"><em>a figure of speech in which a word or phrase is applied to an object or action to which it is not literally applicable</em>. Finally, I felt vindicated. My use of the word flock so many years ago had been correct in my own personal interpretation of an event.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">Of
course, my mother denies any knowledge of the pigeons and Spanish-or-Italian-speaking
children on Liberty Island incident. But to this day, I still gloat over the
fact that I was right in describing the incident- <em>or telling the story my way.</em> </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-ZA" style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">As an adult, and now as a writer, I firmly believe that your story
is just that; <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">your story. Y</i>ou
should always tell your story in your own voice, honestly and in your own unique way. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-ZA" style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">To some, freeing yourself to spill the essence of your life
experiences and emotions onto a page may seem like an exciting adventure. To
others this same idea is terrifying.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj25hO1jXCuMS20D7tI5sT03-a_OvaQIuLrRDir9Pkkv0tbxRA16b6CfjSO3sxRbIN6BQ5BwaOJQf4GeDEnQnVLQW1DrPAQv_DQXPVt6ue2NL8-NHid3fFyaFO8rP4xiPcoGIFtVf_UEtOP/s1600/untitled+%252852%2529.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="color: black;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj25hO1jXCuMS20D7tI5sT03-a_OvaQIuLrRDir9Pkkv0tbxRA16b6CfjSO3sxRbIN6BQ5BwaOJQf4GeDEnQnVLQW1DrPAQv_DQXPVt6ue2NL8-NHid3fFyaFO8rP4xiPcoGIFtVf_UEtOP/s200/untitled+%252852%2529.png" width="171" /></span></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWEut9ZUrN3pnuqhVWAJM0eNIyNK_4Wf8FaLIkj-F8m7mLz_8uoJLwNyBVe8jmfFPCJf_si6l4_Fa-B1Z2Nbyii8NLlXK7AA1qDEQpbwNZCulUEleRPfYWP-Gcrmo2WMSZuFTi7E6f-ETU/s1600/imagesZ45TTGUL.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span></a><span lang="EN-ZA" style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">Years ago, a mentor gave me the following advice. “When you’re
writing fiction, you’re creating a world full of unique characters and
situations. It’s your world, so who’s to tell you what’s right or
wrong. Be true to your characters and their integrity. This is especially true
when as you’re writing dialogue. Allow yourself to tell your story in your own
voice and point of view. And don’t worry about breaking any of the traditional
rules of writing from time to time.”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-ZA" style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">While the advice sounded simple and a tad rebellious, I took his
advice and immediately noticed a change in my writing. First of all it was
easier to write as the words flowed more easily from my imagination and onto
the page. My characters became stronger. And once I released myself from the
notion that I had to follow<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> all</i> the
rules, I began to enjoy the writing process more. I was willing to take more
risks, and as a result have become a better writer. </span></div>
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<span style="clear: left; color: black; float: left; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2cB6YIau_o7EiTGwBuJOX8SS-GlJlNogZXkmIRwTgjW3VO_0u_dr0hPgzYGsFK_GIWdaZAXZ9W02HPv7nOdktrSU2NJq-srsNWZaeFDpFP_JrLjn8ZMGt3dPbSkb11NcP3l2aE1FtBL0Q/s320/FALL-AGAIN-Lost-Boy-1+%25281%2529.jpg" width="211" /></span><br />
<span style="color: black;"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">While this approach has served me well, I’ll admit that sometimes
I’m hesitant to push through some of my remaining walls. In the second novel of the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><a href="http://www.fallagainseries.com/">Fall Again</a> series, Lost Boy, </i>my editor
suggested using a word that I originally felt uncomfortable using. While I had
considered using the word (<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">bullshit</i>)
as I originally wrote the section, I opted for a weaker word which, as a result,
weakened the scene. My editor advised me, “You have Marc telling a boldfaced
lie to a friend in a situation that is relaxed and casual. Why don’t you, as
the narrator, call his lie what it is?” In the end I realized that he was
absolutely right. Had I been true to myself initially, I would have followed my
instincts and used the word early on. I feared I might offend my readers.
My reliable beta readers told me the scene was funny and real, which was my intent all along. <br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">In the third novel of the series, <em>California Girl,(</em>available this summer), I explore some difficult subjects, including an abusive relationship. At first, approaching these subjects was challenging, and I briefly fell back into trying to tell my story "nicely." Needless to say this approach didn't work. My characters, and especially my heroine Lauren, lost integrity. When I dismissed thoughts of what I feared others might think and remained true to the subject matter, my writing took on an honest and emotional quality that had been missing.</span></span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span> </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-ZA" style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">Weaving words together to create worlds and people is a talent and an
extraordinary gift. Trust yourself, your talent, and please, trust your readers. Give yourself
permission to freely explore your gift and artistry. Give yourself permission
to embrace <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">your own flocks of children- </i>whatever
that means to you!</span><br />
<span style="color: black;"></span><br />
<span lang="EN-ZA" style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">By telling your story in
your own unique way, you’ll allow your voice to ring through true and clear, while becoming a better writer!</span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8507441479242162503.post-5786600522208698322016-03-26T22:18:00.001-07:002016-03-26T22:19:01.873-07:00So...What Happened to Easter?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirVmpnIT0LB97z8RDzvd-PtdZOLi2AiGJM-kVMDpcrq5ktkUDQt_Hl9TeFJMLpHXh8b8Ke1zQxzKuWwS_9fEm_EBAF09N5Ch-x4vfu6nBzmR9uTu-9j3FVRucDgBebrf7NEj1eFFbIkZkd/s1600/images3UEF0E0X.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="359" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirVmpnIT0LB97z8RDzvd-PtdZOLi2AiGJM-kVMDpcrq5ktkUDQt_Hl9TeFJMLpHXh8b8Ke1zQxzKuWwS_9fEm_EBAF09N5Ch-x4vfu6nBzmR9uTu-9j3FVRucDgBebrf7NEj1eFFbIkZkd/s400/images3UEF0E0X.jpg" width="400" /></a>Last Friday, I was in a fitting room at the Banana Republic at The Grove in Los Angeles. I had <br />
found the most adorable fit and flare sleeveless LBD (little black dress). It was my size, on sale with an additional 30% off. It fit perfectly. I clicked a quick dressing room photo which I sent to my husband before stepping out of the fitting room to see the dress in the three-way mirror.<br />
<br />
A smiling sales associate stepped beside me. "That looks really nice on you. Are you thinking about wearing it next Sunday?"<br />
<br />
I gave her a blank stare. "Sunday?"<br />
<br />
"Yes. Easter Sunday."<br />
<br />
"You must be mistaken. It <em>can't</em> be Easter."<br />
<br />
"It's early this year."<br />
<br />
Now that I thought about it, store displays were featuring brightly colored displays while I'd seen commercials featuring bunnies and chocolate--but somehow I never put it together. How had Easter completely fallen off my radar?<br />
<br />
I was raised Catholic and attended mass every Sunday. I went to a Catholic school from kindergarten through the twelfth grade where I was taught that Easter was the most important day on the Christian calendar.<br />
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As a kid I looked forward to visits from the Easter Bunny who made a quiet deliveries early on Easter morning. I never appreciated EB's accomplice, my mother, who was responsible for creating the most beautiful baskets. She filled colorful straw baskets with cellophane grass and a plush pastel bunny surrounded by traditional candies. Candy was a rarity in our house. My sister and I went trick or treating on Halloween night, only to have our candy stash thrown away two days later. My mother claimed the <em>fun</em> was in collecting the candy--and no, I've never forgiven her for destroying this childhood ritual. But Easter was different. As soon as we awoke we attacked the baskets eating chocolate eggs, bunnies and Peeps--before breakfast. <br />
<br />
Usually the Saturday before Easter we'd color eggs which were also in our baskets. During the following week the eggs would make for novelty items in our lunch boxes. Some were turned into Easter egg salad, which always seemed tastier than plain old egg salad.<br />
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For Easter Sunday mass, my mother usually dressed my sister and me in matching dresses which were accessorized with matching hats, lacy anklets, pocketbooks and black patent leather shoes. <br />
<br />
Dinner was always a family affair which seemed to be at one of my grandmother's houses. which always smelled of roast leg of lamb, baking ham and homemade cakes. <br />
<br />
I remember looking forward to the Peanuts special, <em>It's the Easter Beagle Charlie Brown </em>which usually aired sometime the week before Easter. This special had a weak storyline, but amazing music. Vince Guaraldi composed jazz variations of Beethoven classics.<br />
<br />
My most memorable Easter was the year my family went to Italy. On Easter Sunday we were in Vatican City receiving the Pope's blessing. This incredible experience was followed immediately by another as we stepped into St. Peter's Basilica where we saw Michelangelo's <em>Pieta</em>.<br />
<br />
When I was a senior in high school, I remember going to Easter mass with my family, then brunch, and then home. That was it. My parents retired to their bedroom where my father took a nap and my mother settled in with the current novel she was reading. My sister and I, having nothing else to do, went to the mall. This is the last Easter I remember spending with my family. I'm sure there were others, but this was a turning point; I was growing up and holidays were beginning to lose their magic.<br />
<br />
I rarely came home for Easter when I was in college. I do remember going to brunch with a friend and her parents one year. After mimosas and French toast, I went to a callback for a summer production of A <em>Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum. </em>(I was cast in the production and heartbroken when my parents insisted that I come home that summer. Theater at Emerson College was one thing. Outside of college in the real world was another.)<br />
<br />
While living in Chicago, I was the Easter Bunny in Carson Pierre Scotts department store on year. Frankly, I found the costume frightening as did many of the small children who were forced to sit on my lap for photographs. Quite by accident, I developed a trick that usually stopped small children's tears: I wiped my eyes as I pretended to cry. Misery loves company and the child, feeling sympathy, would stop crying to console me. One little girl brought me carrots.<br />
<br />
When I first moved to Hollywood, I was determined to get to a Sunrise Service at The Hollywood Bowl. But then I realized how early sunrise actually was and never made it.<br />
<br />
For the past several years, Easter Sunday has just been another day at work.<br />
<br />
Back at Banana Republic, a chime indicating a text message draws my attention away from my reflection in the three-way mirror. My husband is telling me to purchase the dress, but by now I've decided I don't need another black dress, especially for Easter Sunday. I thank the associate who reminds me that the dress is going for a great price. True. I love bargains, but I leave the LBD in the fitting room,<br />
<br />
Earlier today I was in a CVS and saw shelves full of Easter candy. I remember loving the foil covered milk chocolate eggs, but I can't find any. I find Hershey Easter kisses, which are the same thing in a different shape, but I really want chocolate eggs because it's Easter. I leave with nothing.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGVplg2Pdok_YiwIq0tIGHsFIThBM4HijNUQ6_mzZKL5E8_c3UOm7jm3beRzwHCL4JhFq6gu7-Nu2TVGnPHCSOm81zCYUfSFSIlbzj_NbcOr9VwHL4P0iIEMCAb0l5Czo2xBwvbGrJOLOM/s1600/imagesFBPCANHX.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGVplg2Pdok_YiwIq0tIGHsFIThBM4HijNUQ6_mzZKL5E8_c3UOm7jm3beRzwHCL4JhFq6gu7-Nu2TVGnPHCSOm81zCYUfSFSIlbzj_NbcOr9VwHL4P0iIEMCAb0l5Czo2xBwvbGrJOLOM/s1600/imagesFBPCANHX.jpg" /></a>Tomorrow I'll go to work and look forward to enjoying dinner with my husband and a good friend<br />
afterwards. This year we're doing Italian. I know there will be good wine and conversation. I'll try not to wear black for a change. <br />
<br />
After I get home and attend to my pets and household chores, I might watch <em>It's the Easter Beagle Charlie Brown, </em>mainly to listen to Vince Guaraldi's jazz score. Who knows? I may be able to recapture some of the magic from the Easters past.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8507441479242162503.post-86007621474903546972016-03-20T17:53:00.004-07:002016-03-20T20:17:44.145-07:00The Most Valuble Asset for Performing and Creatve Artists: Your Health<em>Once again I've put way too much on my plate while trying to balance acting and writing careers, running household and being the perfect wife. Recently, I had to reevaluate my priorities. It's a matter of health.</em><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">A Cautionary Tale</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">Things had been going well. My first
audition of the year resulted in a booking. I was auditioning regularly
and had a high callback ratio. I was working a
day job that I actually enjoyed, working with a group of
creative people on public speaking presentations centering on
historical events--and I love history. Life was good.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">On Monday evening, my husband and I had
a friend over for dinner. It
was pleasant evening that ended with my husband and I watching a favorite
TV show. Then we went to bed.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">My husband fell asleep quickly.
But I'd been having more and more difficulty falling asleep lately; my
mind was constantly racing with random thoughts. On
this night I also found myself unable to relax. I felt weird. I
was out of breath like I'd just run a race. My heart was pounding and felt like
it was about to burst through my chest. I had a horrible headache
which caused dizziness. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">Something was wrong. Not wanting to
wake my husband, I slipped out of bed, went online. According to WebMD I was
exhibiting symptoms of a stroke...the online info said to call 911. I didn't.
Instead, at 2:10AM I woke my husband who took me to a nearby emergency
room where I was given a thorough exam that included several neurological tests.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">No. I was not having a stroke. In
fact I was embarrassed with the diagnosis of<b><i> sleep deprivation and
anxiety.</i></b> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">The ER physician wanted to know what
was happening in my life. I replied that things were good. He asked me to think
back over the last few months to find a possible cause of stress. The month
before we had some unexpected repairs done in our home which
disrupted our home life and made it necessary to change our routines. That was
defiantly a source of stress, but that was a month ago. He informed me that <em><strong>stress
never leaves the body.</strong></em> When he asked me about my everyday routine, it was apparent I was burning the candle at both ends; doing far too much on any given day and only getting four to five hours of sleep a night.<em><strong> </strong></em>He prescribed, relaxation, rest, sleep (he wanted me to take
a sleeping aid for a few nights), and told to follow up with my
GP. Finally, he gave me a work release for the next day and instructed me
to call in sick to work.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">I didn't listen. After just a few hours of unrestful sleep, I resumed my regular routine.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"> I was at a commercial callback at 10AM before going
to my day job where I remained until 5:30PM. Instead of going home, I kept an
appointment with my hairstylist before returning home after 8PM. I went to bed
early, but only managed to sleep for three or four hours. I got up early the next
morning and began all over again. I was not going to let a little lost sleep and stress get in my way. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">Is it any wonder that I ended
up with the same symptoms--only worse a few days later? This time I listened to
my body--and made myself and my health the priority. <b><i>The End</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">My story is not unusual among
performing and creative artists. Many times we find ourselves balancing our
craft with the everyday demands of life (family, day jobs, household, etc.)
Sometimes we see ourselves as super beings and strive to do everything...and to
do everything well.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">Many creative professionals are perfectionists and
possess vey strong work ethics. (An old boss at a former day job told me he
hired actors whenever possible because of their strong work ethics and
attention to details.) We want to do well in all aspects of our lives,
especially in our artistic efforts. So is it any surprise that some of us are
taking on more than we can handle and find ourselves trying to perform an
impossible balancing act? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">-<i>An
LA actor friend had just sent her husband, also a working actor, off
to New England where he would be doing a play for two months. She was
getting their seven year old daughter to and from school everyday and arranging
for a sitter when necessary, going on auditions and subsequent bookings,
working a part-time day job, and running their household. One day, while shopping
for ingredients to make homemade cupcakes for a next
day school event, she was rushed from an area grocery store via ambulance
due to chest pains. While she was sure she was having a heart attack, she was
diagnosed with anxiety.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGQgQerRhFsTXXY1LyIXtpq6SCz95SngvH3NLeIwdjU1X7h4GWd7cYxqGtFS2eV3pjDmyHJ-vvkJm7Iek1qmyRPeHGEks2ZaygHmbgdlR7q56eOPE29ZgwlkNyvo64_GdBTmhCyUKwytd6/s1600/imagesB5IPIW27.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="168" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGQgQerRhFsTXXY1LyIXtpq6SCz95SngvH3NLeIwdjU1X7h4GWd7cYxqGtFS2eV3pjDmyHJ-vvkJm7Iek1qmyRPeHGEks2ZaygHmbgdlR7q56eOPE29ZgwlkNyvo64_GdBTmhCyUKwytd6/s400/imagesB5IPIW27.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">-A
dancer on a cruise ship performed her two nightly shows while ill, though she
managed to conceal her condition from the cast and crew. She performed the
next night as well, only this time she collapsed backstage after the second
show. She had the flu with a fever of 102 degrees.</span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">-One
Saturday, an LA actor woke up with a bad stomach ache, but went to work the day
job-which was somewhat physical. No amount of Pepto-Bismol would provide
relief. By the end of the day the actor decided not to wait to contact their
own doctor on Monday morning, and went to an urgent care facility. Less than two hours later,
a (non-emergency) appendectomy was performed. They were home the next
day. Had this person waited the appendix could have ruptured meaning a
more invasive surgery and a long hospital stay and recovery.</span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">Thankfully these scenarios as well
as my own had happy endings. But there also stories of those who have
ignored messages from their bodies, and whose stories don't end happily..</span><br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9Xb-cgtq-WXJ1Pj6s4O2Ko21IjKU_YKKJHtHm-grgMbgeNJ0rzBxErSL0eRvEWXZGVa6OJc6gJhZQO3vBklaoCH0eY2q8FbFx00kYr_FvcBoy-2j2GZQAZbJv5t35YH-kwGhsvmUP4AJo/s1600/imagesXO0N9RKW.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9Xb-cgtq-WXJ1Pj6s4O2Ko21IjKU_YKKJHtHm-grgMbgeNJ0rzBxErSL0eRvEWXZGVa6OJc6gJhZQO3vBklaoCH0eY2q8FbFx00kYr_FvcBoy-2j2GZQAZbJv5t35YH-kwGhsvmUP4AJo/s320/imagesXO0N9RKW.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<em><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">A woman who at age 26 never had a Pap Smear, was </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">required to get one during her physical before she began working as a dancer at a large resort. The test revealed she was in the early stages of cervical cancer. She now admits that she'd just never taken the time to see a doctor despite a few warning signs. </span></em><br />
<em></em><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><em>Another performer found a lump in her breast which was advanced breast cancer. While over 40, she'd never had a mammogram. </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><em></em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><em>Lastly, I know of one incredibly gifted actor who let a minor and treatable
infection go untreated. He continued his usual fast-paced routine that included playing basketball. The infection eventually reached his heart and killed him. This man was in
his thirties, in good shape, and by all outward appearances, healthy. Had this
man seen a doctor and gotten on a cycle of antibiotics and possibly taken it easy for a few days, he'd still be with us.</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">When I had my own health scare
(more than ten years ago now), I made some simple changes in my life that have
helped keep me healthy. I'm not talking weight loss, just maintaining
my health. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">While I'm not a doctor,(though I've played
one on TV), I'd like to share a few common sense things to keep in mind. Most
are common sense. So please consider these few friendly reminders.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0DZOnUzk8GOb4_76iMOIiYEQws5Ht906LGmAvTvgjAVOfpP1XmgH-Xvr3Ef4siQx4riw7tX_nNy5rS5pB_Rff29MPM3bJS5BtkBYZEeigidKh9NMXXkvtNk9CRRrHsHF5mgV-LyS_BlAH/s1600/images+%252820%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0DZOnUzk8GOb4_76iMOIiYEQws5Ht906LGmAvTvgjAVOfpP1XmgH-Xvr3Ef4siQx4riw7tX_nNy5rS5pB_Rff29MPM3bJS5BtkBYZEeigidKh9NMXXkvtNk9CRRrHsHF5mgV-LyS_BlAH/s200/images+%252820%2529.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">Eat Sensibly/Eat Healthy.</span></b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"> The better you eat the better you feel, and the better your
body will function. After my scare, I began to watch my salt and processed
sugar intake, which meant I was reading food labels. I basically
eliminated most processed and fast food. Anything high in fat was cut to a
minimum. I stopped eating red meat and pork. I rarely drink soda. I was
never big on snacks, but when I do try to stick to fresh fruits and
veggies, yogurt. I still enjoy an order of fries or a favorite
desert on occasion. The key is everything (including alcohol and
caffeine) in moderation. Know your <a href="http://www.medicalnewstoday.com/info/obesity/what-is-bmi.php">BMI</a>. Use this number a guideline to maintain a healthy weight.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><strong>Hydrate.</strong> <span class="_Tgc _y9e">The old adage of 8 glasses a <b>day</b> is no longer true. Instead, think about how <b>much</b> you weigh and divide that number in half. That's how <b>many ounces of water</b> you should drink per <b>day</b>. For instance, a person who is 200 pounds, should drink 100 <b>oz. of water</b> per <b>day</b> to be adequately hydrated. Consider making water your default beverage.</span></span></div>
<b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">Have a physical every year.</span></b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"> See your dentist twice a year. Get an annual flu
shot. Ladies, see your gynecologist. Make sure you schedule
appointments for the tests and screenings that are recommended
(mammograms, colonoscopies). While some test are unpleasant and sometimes
embarrassing, they are potentially lifesaving. (many states have programs for
standard screenings if you are uninsured.) Here's a list of suggested screenings, though always consult with your own physician.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfQ3C52PE-CP-q4zZvigYPlsPFP4WLwEaIbY_1rJ8wY-1427OgVLxoAAlrtqTv12LkbwHvrm0vXEb_ShwV9VlUhsb4Dfrk2S3pt1P62Us2ZHMAe2285a62rw4G1fgCgrn6XnFA-pJPO2ZB/s1600/screning-chart.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfQ3C52PE-CP-q4zZvigYPlsPFP4WLwEaIbY_1rJ8wY-1427OgVLxoAAlrtqTv12LkbwHvrm0vXEb_ShwV9VlUhsb4Dfrk2S3pt1P62Us2ZHMAe2285a62rw4G1fgCgrn6XnFA-pJPO2ZB/s1600/screning-chart.gif" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">Exercise</span></b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">. Make exercise a part of your life and choose
something you enjoy that you won't dread doing. A good walk can help to
clear your head, while stretching (yoga & Pilates) help with flexibility,
circulation and sleep. I love fitness DVD's that allow me to exercise without
leaving home.</span></span><br />
<br />
<strong>Don't Smoke. Or, stop smoking.</strong></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">Get enough sleep</span></b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">. The number of hours will differ for each person, though most of us need
anywhere from six to eight hours a night. Remember sleep allows your body to
recharge.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">Listen to your body & do what it
says</span></b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">. You know yourself and your body
better than anyone. You </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">know when you can treat yourself or when you need to
seek medical attention. Waiting too long can sometimes lead to
complications and a hospital stay for conditions that could have otherwise been
treated easily. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><b><i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">It's okay to stop</span></i></b><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"> (or at least slow down).</span></b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"> This
is not a sign of weakness. In fact I believe stopping </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeALCp9svB4NFvzjQQi3iOttgRyAcl2waYlKghg8ykDEFsWvU7tQZiRwXVRWSwRLPPQ0ItQnJgwFHHf_Pb2fvkOmahWjoRuqY7-xjv6vBEMZeEihczNT96RpI2hvCmOAVMclGD2xMDuxVQ/s1600/images+%252812%2529.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeALCp9svB4NFvzjQQi3iOttgRyAcl2waYlKghg8ykDEFsWvU7tQZiRwXVRWSwRLPPQ0ItQnJgwFHHf_Pb2fvkOmahWjoRuqY7-xjv6vBEMZeEihczNT96RpI2hvCmOAVMclGD2xMDuxVQ/s320/images+%252812%2529.png" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">when needed is a
show of strength and self- respect. Remember, if you don't stop, your
body will stop you. (<i>Years ago as I was getting ready to move to LA, I
scheduled myself to work 18 hours a day for two weeks solid at three different
jobs. Ten days in, I woke up one morning unable to move.
Exhaustion won. I dropped one job for the remaining few days.) </i><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">Your body is your most
important instrument and an incredible machine which must be maintained to
keep you going physically and mentally. Your body is your dwelling that allows
you to exist. This is where you think and create. Your body transports you from
one place to another.</span><br />
<br />
Without your health, you can't give 100% to yourself, your craft or to those around you.<br />
<br />
While good health is important to <em>everyone</em> no matter their profession, it is especially important to artists;<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"> our bodies are the vessels which allow us to practice our crafts. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">Take care of your body and your body
will take care of you. After all, you only have one.</span><br />
<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8507441479242162503.post-34984675290674836052016-03-13T23:14:00.001-07:002016-03-13T23:14:37.052-07:00A Casual Conversation Planted Seeds for a Series of Novels...and a New Artistic Direction.<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_mNBn_PqdgXpC_UtIcAy0KjeR091MF_I4VLo-1rifoq7aWA6fkwBBc1aBcHs36NUwmEzeCZ1qRnW25fLLTbJU8hvUBYoQHeJpE8n6ffJcX0IW_ygzlpRoYIOXxulOGeP_GClb_3iQ3AnJ/s1600/untitled+%252828%2529.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_mNBn_PqdgXpC_UtIcAy0KjeR091MF_I4VLo-1rifoq7aWA6fkwBBc1aBcHs36NUwmEzeCZ1qRnW25fLLTbJU8hvUBYoQHeJpE8n6ffJcX0IW_ygzlpRoYIOXxulOGeP_GClb_3iQ3AnJ/s320/untitled+%252828%2529.png" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; line-height: 107%;">In 2006, my husband Tony and I wrote and performed a show for the Fringe circuit. The experience took us to several cities where we saw many live shows and met performing artists from all over of the country.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; line-height: 107%;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; line-height: 107%;">While in Indianapolis, we joined another married couple for dinner one evening; performers who were also doing a show in the Indianapolis Fringe. </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; line-height: 107%;">Christian and Catalina amazed audiences with magic and telepathy, while our show was a series of stories based on our marriage and living in Hollywood. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; line-height: 107%;">Once our drinks arrived at the table, Catalina proposed our<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> next</i> show. “You should do a show about your experiences as actors in Hollywood! People would find it fascinating.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; line-height: 107%;">This sounded strange. “But it’s not fascinating! It’s just what we do.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; line-height: 107%;">Catalina disagreed. “Not to people outside of the industry who are dying to know about the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">real</i> Hollywood! I’ve enjoyed listening to your stories and I'm sure others would too!” </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; line-height: 107%;">Hollywood is a city, an industry and a state of mind. For Tony and me, it’s home.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; line-height: 107%;">While we never wrote that show, I never forgot Catalina’s words --words that may have planted the seeds for my contemporary romantic series, <em>Fall Again.</em> The four-part series follows the lives of working artists and takes place over twenty years.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; line-height: 107%;">When I began to write the first novel in the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Fall Again series</i>, my focus was bringing the tortured romance of my two central characters, Marc and Lauren, to life. But this is also very much a story about the lives of working actors. I found myself thinking about my own experiences in the industry along with experiences of my fellow actors and other artists. Many of these events found their way into my manuscript and became elements in the careers of the actors in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Fall Again</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihG8ElZJlYvXmju9aRJPgA4uCCc_7l40oyqu7ssbBWEic6uihb4tu84TlW-H3GQDSp9nlE7Jxu2Ud6mkAGsmMqRM-4kqU6dtzGzgtI_OPPajjDErw9BbnSswmLyB4dRS4oMO4jcFmiMzKd/s1600/p183909_b_v8_ab.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihG8ElZJlYvXmju9aRJPgA4uCCc_7l40oyqu7ssbBWEic6uihb4tu84TlW-H3GQDSp9nlE7Jxu2Ud6mkAGsmMqRM-4kqU6dtzGzgtI_OPPajjDErw9BbnSswmLyB4dRS4oMO4jcFmiMzKd/s200/p183909_b_v8_ab.jpg" width="133" /></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; line-height: 107%;">When we first meet Lauren Phillips, she’s just completed her first day of work on a network soap, the fictional <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Clayton’s Crossing</i>. For years, daytime dramas provided work and on the job training for many actors (Brad Pitt, Julianne Moore and Meg Ryan, to name a few.) My first job on network television was on NBC’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Days of Our Lives. </i>Like Lauren, I was nervous…especially when I learned my first network television scene would be with Genie Francis, (formerly Laura Spencer on <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">General Hospital)</i>, who was soap opera royalty! This was Genie’s first day as reporter Diana </span><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; line-height: 107%;">Colville. She</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; line-height: 107%;"> comes to Salem’s University Hospital searching for someone who can identify a person in a photograph and approaches the nurse at the desk…me! I had five lines of dialogue that day. (For the record, Genie Francis was very nice and helped make this day smooth and memorable.)Ten days later, I was back on set, and would return to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">DOOL</i> regularly as Nurse Evelyn for ten years.</span></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirHjMZC38TYGkvfgjmzUbmmkY77B5sCmTtPkbpQYdA86P8G52P89g76Gue4_6C0jFNJs1NrAz-b69QXA00z9PaIVJvXkvXw8Sz5O-eyd0FbmXJyrdhNvpELHOcOKLacHS1AWbGRZur0VRg/s1600/robert_guillaume_show_241x208+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirHjMZC38TYGkvfgjmzUbmmkY77B5sCmTtPkbpQYdA86P8G52P89g76Gue4_6C0jFNJs1NrAz-b69QXA00z9PaIVJvXkvXw8Sz5O-eyd0FbmXJyrdhNvpELHOcOKLacHS1AWbGRZur0VRg/s200/robert_guillaume_show_241x208+%25282%2529.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">When I booked a job on this show I couldn't believe I'd<br />
be working with an actor I'd admired and grown up watching. </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; line-height: 107%;">In the third novel, Lauren will book a job as a guest star on a sitcom. The event was inspired by my own appearance on The Robert Guillaume Show. Yes, I was thrilled when I booked the job and loved working with Robert who I had admired and watched for most of my life. But for me this was just another job; it’s what I do. For every amazing day in an actor’s career, there could be hundreds <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ordinary</i> days. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoNc0oFg-SvqjW409p1umV0SVghT1kOCGi4FSw8mdL2qsBPAp0lTbxvidOXBo-EUlY64orlZxD6lWawuS1aM39tHLm7OYF6ua8Wc69mvPfnmghNjDmTf-KuMhqJRHfLbRgv8y6j7OtiVop/s1600/FALL-AGAIN-Beginnings-8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoNc0oFg-SvqjW409p1umV0SVghT1kOCGi4FSw8mdL2qsBPAp0lTbxvidOXBo-EUlY64orlZxD6lWawuS1aM39tHLm7OYF6ua8Wc69mvPfnmghNjDmTf-KuMhqJRHfLbRgv8y6j7OtiVop/s200/FALL-AGAIN-Beginnings-8.jpg" width="131" /></a>The <em>Fall Again</em> series starts with<em> <strong><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Fall-Again-Beginnings-Donna-Figueroa-ebook/dp/B00ZKYSJM2/ref=tmm_kin_swatch_0?">Fall Again: Beginnings</a></strong> </em>where actors Marc and Lauren are auditioning at the same Los Angeles casting studio.This is the first time they have seen each other in over twenty years. The story then shifts to New York City in the late 1980's where Marc and Lauren meet, become good friends and eventually fall in love. While Marc and Lauren are actors, many of their friends also have careers in the arts. There is a writer, a dancer/choreographer, a comedienne, and an award winning poet. We follow this close knit group of friends in the early years of their careers. There are a variety of day jobs, family conflicts and work related separations. During the series, the careers of the secondary characters will also be followed.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzj54aX4TGbtdEcGZK0kLEjt_Ad_t4RlSYhpYCFxm6p5VBecRHHdKMvwtmSOv3WjiiHmHwLqI8jYiAwQielieVWy3czwU2W8pZpmLK8W0QKvzkkRXlIQL4-QAJMdf9t4DDtyVkrRruxj64/s1600/FALL-AGAIN-Lost-Boy-1+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzj54aX4TGbtdEcGZK0kLEjt_Ad_t4RlSYhpYCFxm6p5VBecRHHdKMvwtmSOv3WjiiHmHwLqI8jYiAwQielieVWy3czwU2W8pZpmLK8W0QKvzkkRXlIQL4-QAJMdf9t4DDtyVkrRruxj64/s200/FALL-AGAIN-Lost-Boy-1+%25281%2529.jpg" width="131" /></a>The second and third books, <em><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Fall-Again-Interim-Years-1989-2010-ebook/dp/B017XF6ST6/ref=tmm_kin_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=">Fall Again: Lost Boy</a></em> and <em>Fall Again: California Girl (</em>available this<em> </em>summer<em>), </em>follow Marc and Lauren's careers during their twenty year separation. While both are working actors, their lives and artistic journeys are very different. Both encounter events(9/11, entertainment industry strikes) that effect their careers as they both continue to evolve and grow as artists. There will be relationships and other personal issues including growing older in business that fixated on youth.<br />
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The final novel, <em><strong>Fall Again: Reunion </strong></em>(available this fall) reunites Marc and Lauren after a twenty-two year separation. Together, they will try to find balance between their personal lives and careers as they again, consider a romance.<br />
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I wanted the Fall Again series to realistically reflect the lives of creative and performing artists, (though every creative will follow his or her own unique path). The series is grounded in the<em> real </em>world of working artists. All of my characters are dedicated to their careers. They are professional, diligent, and as a result, are earning livings as performing and creative artists. Those working in creative and performing fields are often misunderstood by those in more traditional jobs who often have misconceptions of artists being frivolous, lazy and unfocussed. (I addressed this subject earlier this year in the post, <a href="http://adventuresofareluctantwriter.blogspot.com/2016/01/artists-angst-and-tee-shirts.html">Artists, Angst and Tee Shirts)</a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix6kxxXYqmdhLvqawEmcZbNnH_w_xonPz-VBy-zXLA0T5Zl5_7EoDHfFIiYmlsmCisJ2FrkdjK7fiY_v7m8kjuE19a7jCeOQoMk94XB12j6ceAYlUN1lNzC-aOAReOO9wZ-e28aKM91dX1/s1600/creativity-is-contagious.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix6kxxXYqmdhLvqawEmcZbNnH_w_xonPz-VBy-zXLA0T5Zl5_7EoDHfFIiYmlsmCisJ2FrkdjK7fiY_v7m8kjuE19a7jCeOQoMk94XB12j6ceAYlUN1lNzC-aOAReOO9wZ-e28aKM91dX1/s320/creativity-is-contagious.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-size: small;">As an actor, there are often circumstances that are beyond my control. But as an author I’m enjoying complete control of the world I've created. I'm finding that my two careers are supporting each other since creativity feeds creativity.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-size: small;">In <em>Fall Again, </em>my goal was to provide a realistic glimpse into the lives of working actors and other creative artists.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hopefully I’ve dispelled some misconceptions of those in creative professions, while telling Marc and Lauren’s love story. I want my readers to experience the triumphs and heartbreaks throughout my character’s careers, and most importantly, enjoy their journeys.</span></span><br />
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The <em>Fall Again</em> series unknowingly began almost ten years ago over a casual dinner conversation between creative people in a creative environment. Albert Einstein said it best--<em>creativity is contagious.</em><br />
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<a href="http://www.fallagainseries.com/">Fall Again Series</a><br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8507441479242162503.post-92171938604860433992016-02-28T22:57:00.001-08:002016-02-28T22:57:55.166-08:00Falling Short: Confessions of a Would Be Dream Girl<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhABU-SzZJfHaA7wQq6EZTflMNodEAvBDXSAJsxyVhyphenhyphenKHnMWjGgmM4taNwk-RuX7IHDIxSh-Ony6Mdvg4z-mOjz7-eqC_OHxhqqaZJp6eEm7w4oRMugpqXoVlqowZBFB5G_U4080ogKA50t/s1600/images4ZI86KWE.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhABU-SzZJfHaA7wQq6EZTflMNodEAvBDXSAJsxyVhyphenhyphenKHnMWjGgmM4taNwk-RuX7IHDIxSh-Ony6Mdvg4z-mOjz7-eqC_OHxhqqaZJp6eEm7w4oRMugpqXoVlqowZBFB5G_U4080ogKA50t/s400/images4ZI86KWE.jpg" width="263" /></a><em><span style="font-size: large;">
<strong>Like any other working actor, I have a many audition stories. This one, which highlights my "shortcomings" is one of my favorites.</strong></span></em> <br />
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<span style="font-weight: normal;">At the beginning of my acting career I was living and working in Chicago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> For actors who are just starting their professional careers, Chicago is a great place to learn the <em>business of the business</em>. The talent pool is smaller, so newer actors will have opportunities that that they may not have in New York or Los Angeles. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>One Thursday afternoon I received a call from
my agent Jan Marie.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Jan was a new agent and the owner of her own agency. She often struggled to get her clients into auditions with many production companies always calling and using the established talent agencies. </span>I’d never heard her
this excited.</span></div>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><em>Donna ...you’re in! I got
you a spot on Saturday. It took some doing but you’re in!</em></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><em>Jan slow down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What did you get me into?</em></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><em>An audition for the National Touring Company of Dreamgirls! You're going in for a role in the ensemble.
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><em>Dreamgirls</em> premiered on Broadway in 1981. The musical is based upon the show business aspirations and successes </span><span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">R&B groups like The Supremes and The Shirelles. The musical follows the story of a young female singing trio called "The Dreams", who become music superstars. </span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"></span>Auditions for a National Touring Company of<em> Dreamgirls</em> were being held in Chicago<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The audition was big news throughout the
African-American acting community, and just about everyone I knew was trying to get one of the
few coveted audition spots.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> But not me. You see, e</span>ver since<em>
Dreamgirls</em> opened on Broadway, I’d had dreams of being part of
the cast…that was until I saw the breakdown:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><em><strong>Ensemble: Attractive black females, 18-30.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Must sing and move well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></strong></em></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><em><strong><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span><span style="font-size: medium;">Height Requirement: 5’6-5’11.<o:p></o:p></span></strong></em></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">I was heartbroken.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I fell <em>several</em> inches short
of 5’6.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When you think of the musical
<em>Dreamgirls</em> you think statuesque women like Sheryl Lee Ralph.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> I'm barely 5'3 s</span>o I never got involved in any of the
pre-audition hysteria of looking for the perfect songs (up-tempo & ballad),
finding the perfect outfit, then starving myself to fit
into the outfit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It didn’t
matter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But now, I had a spot that
others would kill for. At first I felt guilty about taking a spot away from another actor who fit the height requirement. I hated to break
Jan’s bubble but felt I had no choice.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><em>Jan, thanks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know you must have worked
long and hard to get me that audition.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But Jan...I’m too short!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The height
requirement is 5’6.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m barley 5’3 which
means I’m really 5’2.</em></span><br />
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Jan Marie had represented me for several months. Apparently, she'd never considered my height. Many people are surprised to see how petite I really am. I have long legs and to this day live in heels. The fact that I was barely 5'3 was news to
her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">I heard papers rustling on her
desk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><em></em></span></span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> <em>Donna…okay I have the
breakdown. Oh! You’re right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I want you
to go anyway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You know how it is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They never really know what they want
anyway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You’ve got the voice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>What’s the worst that can happen</em>?</span><br />
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">I couldn’t say no to
Jan Marie. She wouldn’t let me. Jan believed in me like no other agent ever had.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><em>Okay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What time?</em></span><br />
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><em>Saturday at 12:50.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And
the callback follows immediately at 1PM.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Bring dance clothes and be prepared to move.</em><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span><br />
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">She then told me that she'd snagged
me the very last appointment of the preliminary call.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> She told me to "think tall" and wished me luck.</span></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
<!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">I chose 2 songs that
I felt showed off my voice and got to work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGrlhhKGf9Vh7YZYAhhghVMuKmOvrz1SQp34dEe9WPLZt_4_kD2MAVdQmTJBvAJn-foqGLTdApZbHV7tJciq3zSkAqhzv8ip5Yka36vws2VmPBXMrYM69iR6ItuX8xtd7Tb7eGXYf0bsDw/s1600/imagesRAFFFELK.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGrlhhKGf9Vh7YZYAhhghVMuKmOvrz1SQp34dEe9WPLZt_4_kD2MAVdQmTJBvAJn-foqGLTdApZbHV7tJciq3zSkAqhzv8ip5Yka36vws2VmPBXMrYM69iR6ItuX8xtd7Tb7eGXYf0bsDw/s200/imagesRAFFFELK.jpg" width="174" /></a></div>
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Then, I called Ty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ty was a friend
and costumer who had worked on Broadway and Vegas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> (</span>I think he’s in Branson now.) I wanted his professional advice
in styling a <em>tall</em> outfit and assisting me with my hair and makeup.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Calling Ty was a brilliant move on my part.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By the time he’d finished with me, I appeared
several inches taller.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He insisted I wear a dress to show off my long legs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
looked through my closet and pulled out a black cocktail dress that I'd gotten on sale and never worn. The form fitting dress hit just below the knee and had a slit that showed “just the right
amount” of leg.<br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">He commented that the dress was <em>class not trash. </em><br />
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">He even told me what type of undergarments to wear to draw attention <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">away</i> from some areas while drawing attention <em>to </em>others.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He showed me how to tease my hair to within an inch of it's life before pulling it into a French Twist. The poufy front helped to create the illusion of
more height. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">Before he came over he'd asked me what size shoe I wore and arrived with</span> a pair of stiletto heels. I love high heels, but had never attempted anything this high. Ty drilled me by having me walk, then strut <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>up and down the long hallway in my apartment
building until my walk appeared completely natural. I have no idea what my neighbors must have thought. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Before Ty left, I thought that maybe I had chance of making the company after all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had no reservations about my voice, and
with my new <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">tall</i> makeover, I just
might be able to fake my way to the callback.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ty made me feel even more confident. by telling me that his roommate auditioned earlier in week.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><em>You’ll be on the stage of the Schubert, and the auditors will be at least a third...maybe even halfway back in
the orchestra section.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Their distance
away from you will work in your favor.<o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPRE5xKrIbQNXArUGwydC-AQsmxB4bCRjPVD3JZPxmh9VoleLmzYZCWmxolqfxe9b0NJBUFpkfwPxEcwKHEOdqr0De9tPu-kAHsvP9uDCCTS5emrijQ0_k9sBd5LKbrZup-RzJ8XaCCmZL/s1600/IMG_20160228_0001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPRE5xKrIbQNXArUGwydC-AQsmxB4bCRjPVD3JZPxmh9VoleLmzYZCWmxolqfxe9b0NJBUFpkfwPxEcwKHEOdqr0De9tPu-kAHsvP9uDCCTS5emrijQ0_k9sBd5LKbrZup-RzJ8XaCCmZL/s320/IMG_20160228_0001.jpg" width="245" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><strong>I used this headshot for my <em>Dreamgirls</em> audition.</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><strong>My resume that day listed my height as 5'6.</strong></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p>The next day, </o:p></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Saturday, I arrived
at the stage door of Chicago's Schubert Theater. My newly fudged resume listed my height as
5’6.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Outside of the door I noticed a
group of beautiful women dressed to the nines talking about their auditions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Some </span>weren’t very happy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It seemed that none of them had sung their
ballad, and some barely made it through 16 bars of their up-tempo selection.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I noticed they were all over
5’6.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It looked like this was going to go
really fast.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Auditions were running on
time and in a matter of minutes, I was led onto the stage of the majestic
Schubert Theater.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> So many times I'd been on the other side of the stage in the audience. And so many times I'd dreamed of being on<em> this</em> side of the proscenium. In one of those <em>OMG</em> moments, I realized I was actually on that stage in a professional capacity. In that moment everything became very real...and I realized just how much I wanted to book this job.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">I gave my music to Sunny, the pianist, and moved to a mark at the center of the stage. From the
stage all I could see was big black pit where the audience seats were. Then a voice from somewhere in the darkness said,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><em>This is Donna Allen</em>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">The pianist played my intro. I pulled myself up as tall as I could and I began to sing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My voice filled the
theater and bounced back to me from the house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
By the time I finished my up-tempo selection</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> I felt at least 5’10. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">A <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>voice from somewhere in the darkness asked if I had a ballad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> I was amazingly calm as I<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> confidently nodded to the pianist. I sang my entire ballad, pulling out all of the stops.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYnzX1mE9g6FDPFvilXc5muo74CisosQXv5hf6j92g90MCHctaVL-17xsK7K8_jPSRyChOPVIhKjeQ1swG5Ab1E67aEd-AFZEkmstcAb0-po6rZOLs14X1wVV3xUoE9fcic03iInQ3sxNe/s1600/DreamGirls_Playbill_300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYnzX1mE9g6FDPFvilXc5muo74CisosQXv5hf6j92g90MCHctaVL-17xsK7K8_jPSRyChOPVIhKjeQ1swG5Ab1E67aEd-AFZEkmstcAb0-po6rZOLs14X1wVV3xUoE9fcic03iInQ3sxNe/s320/DreamGirls_Playbill_300.jpg" width="207" /></a> <span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">When I finished, I<em> knew</em> I
'd done well. And I
stood there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I continued to stand
there to the point where I felt uncomfortable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was expecting to be dismissed with a t<em>hank
you</em>, or asked to stay for the callback, but there was
silence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">I looked back at the pianist because she was the only person I could see. She smiled and nodded as if to say, <em>“It’s okay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just wait</em>.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>That’s when I heard the voice from the dark again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"></span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><em>Miss Allen, just a moment please</em>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Then I heard several whispering voices.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There seemed to be a lot of people out there in the dark.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Finally the voice spoke again…but not to
me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span><em>Sunny, would you do us a favor and
go stand next to Miss Allen?</em><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">I thought that was odd.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The pianist came and<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>stood next to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was <em>short!</em><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><em>Miss Allen would you please remove 1
shoe?</em></span></div>
<br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">No! I’d come too
far to leave now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">I removed one shoe while
remaining standing, perfectly poised on the opposite leg and my
stiletto heeled foot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> There was
laughter from the dark. </span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"></span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><em>Thank you, Miss Allen. Would you humor us, and stand on stand on your other leg</em>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>All of a sudden, Sunny became tall, and my true size--short, was revealed.</span><span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"></span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><em>Thank you.</em></span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"></span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">I took my music, and exited through the
Schubert’s stage door, still not quite believing what had just transpired. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hailed a cab, suddenly feeling severely overdressed
and made-up in the harsh daylight.</span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwraQ_rtkLB-1WrCiPoSWkd_l8voY5-tFf7OcmeHdWjTdU_BufAKy5OeGmFE7qym8ebI1_uChLQRGi2aQopLWQuG-gUBHcnZwtT7wOKRpZAn4skpknA987jfqTyQkpyFthn2TuX6vZhBwL/s1600/Painting-With-Light-Dreamgirls-832_re.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwraQ_rtkLB-1WrCiPoSWkd_l8voY5-tFf7OcmeHdWjTdU_BufAKy5OeGmFE7qym8ebI1_uChLQRGi2aQopLWQuG-gUBHcnZwtT7wOKRpZAn4skpknA987jfqTyQkpyFthn2TuX6vZhBwL/s400/Painting-With-Light-Dreamgirls-832_re.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><strong>From a<em> Dreamgirls</em> production touring The Netherlands</strong>.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"> </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
</div>
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">So, I would never become a member of the <em>
Dreamgirls </em>ensemble.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I did take pride in the fact
that I’d had a good audition.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I still
laugh at the mental image of myself standing on the stage of the Schubert
Theater on one foot in my black cocktail dress.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">Over the years there would be</span> other auditions and other
jobs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I booked one job simply because I
was the shortest woman who attended the call.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They knew. Good things come in small packages.</span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br />
<o:p><em>The 1st National Tour of DREAMGIRLS opened at the Shubert Theatre in Los Angeles on Sunday, March 20, 1983. After three stops, the tour proved too expensive to run and closed early.</em> <br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="3" cellspacing="0" style="width: 100%px;"><tbody>
<tr height="12"><td colspan="2" height="12"><table bgcolor="#423c62" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="height: 1px; width: 100%px;"><tbody>
<tr><td></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</o:p></span></div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8507441479242162503.post-54429078172936856242016-02-27T20:20:00.000-08:002016-02-28T23:17:28.772-08:00The View From My Neighborhood, Hollywood: A Resident's Eyeview of the Oscars<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz5zqSuIizALKClQK4-d4yi0dFjHD56OeY_8C2DDEX0nJn0t6malkPvwg09BKVqxr_jCcHL0bYK09aqgmj5ipE_r9WlLMEcnezY-A3TQ_nQ3MtmO06nEbiiYdYTMCse05QXqzX7wIpmiDB/s1600/12778870_10154111663144574_2713711287139473791_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="140" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz5zqSuIizALKClQK4-d4yi0dFjHD56OeY_8C2DDEX0nJn0t6malkPvwg09BKVqxr_jCcHL0bYK09aqgmj5ipE_r9WlLMEcnezY-A3TQ_nQ3MtmO06nEbiiYdYTMCse05QXqzX7wIpmiDB/s640/12778870_10154111663144574_2713711287139473791_o.jpg" width="640" /></a>At first everything looks normal as people are going about their Saturdays. The weather is beautiful and it's a good day to run errands, work out, or simply relax at a neighborhood eatery, coffee shop or bar. At this point all you notice are the signs warning you that there will be limited parking on Sunday. Those who ignore the signs will be towed. <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj13L10CBqHtKqH-bsEeHJNa3n6bs4yJwWbQE6RQ9er3shOjpONq8hdJdi42gKQFLM1P6Rn7mR5oMAMU_IqKx6nEQd3MK28RVHa_hdqOcDgQB0EuVy5stBVx6mnhncxIaHgdZRnnvgi4PJO/s1600/12771653_915093848598599_4651328328627279279_o+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="178" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj13L10CBqHtKqH-bsEeHJNa3n6bs4yJwWbQE6RQ9er3shOjpONq8hdJdi42gKQFLM1P6Rn7mR5oMAMU_IqKx6nEQd3MK28RVHa_hdqOcDgQB0EuVy5stBVx6mnhncxIaHgdZRnnvgi4PJO/s200/12771653_915093848598599_4651328328627279279_o+%25282%2529.jpg" width="200" /></a>As I look at one of these signs, a man walking his dog comments. "They towed me last year. It wasn't fun." Surprisingly, the man is not bitter. In fact, he's rather cheerful. <br />
<br />
It's Oscar time in Hollywood.<br />
<br />
Preparations for tomorrow's ceremony have been going on for <br />
weeks, but the residents of Hollywood began to feel the effects of the upcoming broadcast in last week or so. For most of us who are aware, we simply read the signs and avoid certain area s for few weeks while our lives pretty much continue as usual. Those who are unaware find street closures.<br />
<br />
Things have come a long way from the first modern day Oscar's in Hollywood back in 2002; the first post 9/11 Oscar's when the security was at an all time high. The blocks surrounding the Kodak Theater were closed to the public. Residents living in the area had to show photo IDs to get into the area and to their homes. At the time, I was living just outside of the barricaded area, but still had to deal with two weeks of congested traffic. Over the last few weeks I have noticed an increased police presence, but nothing more than that, at least not yet.<br />
<br />
While I vow to stay away from the preparations of Hollywood's most glamorous night of the year, I find myself drawn to the area before the ceremony. This area where tourists normally flock to see the Chinese Theater, The Hollywood Walk of Fame and iconic Hollywood Sign are now witness to an international media event.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhnW1E3HLZ9K3oECNZeAM9ra1pL9HYUJuGuAVgx3JOq10GgPSX9aw9QD8c-1MUz1WP0-o7jboJ5nOqu5GzWMwHj446TevAaLIog6hs1GFCayfIaacnpy8ixLw0GkWy30lyct_iY9CC1Qsf/s1600/12794332_10154111662889574_2688723034706758295_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhnW1E3HLZ9K3oECNZeAM9ra1pL9HYUJuGuAVgx3JOq10GgPSX9aw9QD8c-1MUz1WP0-o7jboJ5nOqu5GzWMwHj446TevAaLIog6hs1GFCayfIaacnpy8ixLw0GkWy30lyct_iY9CC1Qsf/s320/12794332_10154111662889574_2688723034706758295_n.jpg" width="179" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Grand Staircase</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Today, I took a walk to see my neighborhood getting ready for it's big night. Today will be the last day that the public will be allowed in the vicinity of the Dolby Theater until after tomorrow's ceremony. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju7C2-xe0mgEdnCalUTdXrgHPEIftxYeLrgyJAhN-waSvmV_P8-U0Y7l7btVxCJ0vy__YniyI_4p-G31K72ShqVg1Ar1LRAY0MxYT01_w7-bgV3u6djKSmWQw_8ThpJr31YN1TesQE2qIr/s1600/12747884_915124891928828_7038233963336140873_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="156" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju7C2-xe0mgEdnCalUTdXrgHPEIftxYeLrgyJAhN-waSvmV_P8-U0Y7l7btVxCJ0vy__YniyI_4p-G31K72ShqVg1Ar1LRAY0MxYT01_w7-bgV3u6djKSmWQw_8ThpJr31YN1TesQE2qIr/s320/12747884_915124891928828_7038233963336140873_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shorts & Tee today. Evening gown tomorrow.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The area is <br />
crowded with visitors who are in awe of the amount of press (local, national and international) already broadcasting. There are rehearsals in progress as stand-ins for the stars walk the red carpet. I see several entertainment reporters (almost unrecognizable without hair, makeup and wardrobe) reviewing notes and acquainting themselves with the new technology that they'll be using during the broadcast.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifAsdWtQW06KFfsSQ1cuJZf6p-y9z_Tc0LbRKukDqwl4MZpLneVewZVTXzf3OfPHMoj158J8eRR9KOPZMNXgfVL52BUazFyphE7djDpowqVedlDtFu1ulI8wSOh4F4UVpNkguIGRARFsFe/s1600/12778866_915122998595684_7273957647822952401_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifAsdWtQW06KFfsSQ1cuJZf6p-y9z_Tc0LbRKukDqwl4MZpLneVewZVTXzf3OfPHMoj158J8eRR9KOPZMNXgfVL52BUazFyphE7djDpowqVedlDtFu1ulI8wSOh4F4UVpNkguIGRARFsFe/s400/12778866_915122998595684_7273957647822952401_o.jpg" width="400" /></a><br />
The staircase just outside the Dolby Theater newly covered in a red carpet, looks regal. I try to imagine climbing those stairs wearing 4 1/2"heels. <br />
<br />
It's hard to maneuver the sidewalk due to so many people in so little space, but I do hear pieces of conversations:<br />
<br />
<em><strong>I'd give anything if I could just stand on the red carpet...for just a moment!</strong></em><br />
<strong><em></em></strong><br />
<em><strong>Just think...tomorrow George Clooney and Leonardo DiCaprio</strong></em> <strong><em>will be here breathing the same air we are. The same air!</em></strong><br />
<strong><em></em></strong><br />
<strong><em>You mean they rehearse for the red carpet?</em></strong><br />
<br />
<em><strong> Are there any stars here now? </strong></em><br />
<br />
<strong><em>OMG! There's that girl from Extra! You know...that girl from TV! She's so thin!</em></strong><br />
<strong><em></em></strong><br />
<strong><em>I thought the Oscar's were tomorrow.</em></strong><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8XamU9RibSKHSw2SOmKhQnQyhWsNV9mfv6hiRpWsjRKSdoLuy6DPJE0X8XGZXwMOpi3SEwIQO99-nK5dbtE9msHAP8JzHo6ZHIte2-fQ2Fla7sk6QK_10rIjZxhYt44vxE0L5fLrGrfcV/s1600/12791014_915094138598570_18776384293070909_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8XamU9RibSKHSw2SOmKhQnQyhWsNV9mfv6hiRpWsjRKSdoLuy6DPJE0X8XGZXwMOpi3SEwIQO99-nK5dbtE9msHAP8JzHo6ZHIte2-fQ2Fla7sk6QK_10rIjZxhYt44vxE0L5fLrGrfcV/s400/12791014_915094138598570_18776384293070909_n.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At the entrance of the Dolby Theater</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<strong><em>Mom, this is stupid. Can we go to Disneyland? I mean, who's this Oscar guy anyway?</em></strong><br />
<strong><em></em></strong><br />
<strong><em>It's all so glamorous and exciting! I don't believe I'm really here! Take my picture so I'll have proof that I walked in the same footsteps as the stars!</em></strong><br />
<strong><em></em></strong><br />
I find myself trying to see the events in front of me through the eyes of the visitors and feel some of their excitement. They're genuinely excited to be here. I forget that for many, this is a once in a lifetime experience. Los Angeles relies heavily on the motion picture industry (Hollywood) and tourism to support the economy. By enjoying Oscar preparations, I suppose many visitors are supporting both. <br />
<br />
Tomorrow, my husband and I will observe our Oscar Day tradition. We'll go to work, order carryout and take an alternate route into Hollywood to avoid Oscar traffic. We'll be ready to present photo ID's (if necessary) to provide proof of residency. The goal is to be home by the start of the broadcast. I'll say that I'm not really interested this year and try to do other things around the house. Invariably, I'll end up watching most of the show. <br />
<br />
And then, probably by Wednesday or Thursday, it will be as if the Oscar's never happened. Streets will be open, parking restrictions will have been lifted and people will return to their routines.<br />
Most will forget who won this or that award, and who wore who on the red carpet as Hollywood returns to normal. <br />
<br />
But then we're talking about my neighborhood, Hollywood where normal will mean different things to different people. But for a few hours tomorrow night, Hollywood's normal will be gold.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl-2wQ-IVWD2rYMkp6cw5WDHqO1kiYwAXvC2BODkbcdPJgoIg5QNVe5IUaY5pe1C5DKJP0nu6FgB6BAANIrY_Wtoc48BJd8hwaUPDwF6IADmECAvq9VaMrbJcoYlKdHQPm9s8bMMCIZErt/s1600/12496352_915094538598530_7808111981003979281_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl-2wQ-IVWD2rYMkp6cw5WDHqO1kiYwAXvC2BODkbcdPJgoIg5QNVe5IUaY5pe1C5DKJP0nu6FgB6BAANIrY_Wtoc48BJd8hwaUPDwF6IADmECAvq9VaMrbJcoYlKdHQPm9s8bMMCIZErt/s640/12496352_915094538598530_7808111981003979281_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHRo-qnlIEq9A_An9JGqPlhFt8CnMICpmOk2lKLDdPHLKDM7cnRQxCEjaNF-E6yQMo6_ecCHO-W_iZXaeg_ljBkfa5er3QmGT6neGQEXS9FU_UXffPbC09NOW9JRDSw7XhWhkG6oMiVqW-/s1600/images+%25284%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHRo-qnlIEq9A_An9JGqPlhFt8CnMICpmOk2lKLDdPHLKDM7cnRQxCEjaNF-E6yQMo6_ecCHO-W_iZXaeg_ljBkfa5er3QmGT6neGQEXS9FU_UXffPbC09NOW9JRDSw7XhWhkG6oMiVqW-/s1600/images+%25284%2529.jpg" /></a><br />
<strong><span style="font-size: x-large;">The 88th Academy Award aired Sunday, February 28 on ABC. </span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-size: x-large;">(I wore GAP.)</span></strong><br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8507441479242162503.post-58362491424112009062016-02-21T21:19:00.001-08:002016-02-21T21:19:59.133-08:00Are You Ready for Your Closeup? Actor's Headshots<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioyX8h7rw7zRPskJme42Kn5vfJo4Cukra-7TnQ9yFe7D41QJzR1bLePaZFjc-w4AILAMcRFHsLlIVNumZA3FXR7PHTUqRy5i-f47MqpQgjNsFo7Zj5uXnXfrL3ZXT7C-o4WXKgEZCH9-x9/s1600/untitled+%252830%2529.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="295" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioyX8h7rw7zRPskJme42Kn5vfJo4Cukra-7TnQ9yFe7D41QJzR1bLePaZFjc-w4AILAMcRFHsLlIVNumZA3FXR7PHTUqRy5i-f47MqpQgjNsFo7Zj5uXnXfrL3ZXT7C-o4WXKgEZCH9-x9/s400/untitled+%252830%2529.png" width="400" /></a>I came home after an unusually long day at work to a blinking light on my answering machine. (Yes, I still have an answering machine as a kind of communication security blanket.) It was my agent. She spoke some of the most frightening words an actor can hear:<br />
<br />
<em>I think it's time for new headshots.</em><br />
<em></em><br />
She couldn't be serious. It seemed like I'd just gotten new shots last year-- or was it two or three years ago? And my photos still looked at me, right?<br />
<br />
When I met with my agent the next week, she assured me that my shots<em> did</em> look like me, but that in this day and age of abundant digital submissions, I needed to update my photos to remain <em>fresh. </em>She explained that those casting would stop seeing a shot that they've been seeing for months-it's just human nature. She then went on to say that she's recommending that her clients update their photos at least once a year to remain competitive. She had a point. I called my photographer that day.<br />
<br />
Many professional actors, like myself stress over headshots, one of the most important marketing tools for actors. An ideal headshot is a true representation of the performer. While it goes without saying, your headshot <em>should look like you look, today</em>. Thanks to technology, the industry standard has shifted to color photographs that capture skin tone and present a more accurate image of the actor. But your actor's headshot should also capture your personality--something happening beyond the eyes, so to speak.<br />
<br />
Like so many young eager actors, my first headshots were a disaster. I was going to audition for summer stock theater for the first time and needed a headshot. I had no idea how to go about obtaining one. During spring break, I returned to my home in the Midwest and went to a photographer my parents knew. He took photographs,((head, neck and shoulders) of me in a Danskin leotard. These were perfect examples of what not to do. The photographs were stiff, overly posed and looked like a senior yearbook photo. Ironically my own senior photos were casual candid shots and reflective my truer self. If the <em>glamor shot</em> places in malls existed then, I may have gone there and produced another set of unusable headshots. These shots, while glamorous, don't reflect the subject as they truly are. How many of us are constantly overly made up and air-bushed to unreal perfection?<br />
<br />
I did a second session with another photographer less than a year later, also back in my Midwestern hometown. This photographer was an artist who dabbled in photography. I described what I needed, and he delivered several shots, some of which were usable. However, I failed to get them reproduced properly, getting really good Xerox copies. Miraculously, one of these shots led to one of my first acting jobs in Chicago.<br />
<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOR0i9P_bwvTGGnwjeDpDWF4tDjR0K9ptpDWAOvbrdwZ33-58vpG8HJ63ivZ9Rsja2tBDtJKDqTMjW9vp9wpTythaWjc5T-L2Rv7PgsrND3EimVkqYHwSRwuX0_qUIzJOSzFDlYgAjRnqI/s1600/IMG_20160220_0002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOR0i9P_bwvTGGnwjeDpDWF4tDjR0K9ptpDWAOvbrdwZ33-58vpG8HJ63ivZ9Rsja2tBDtJKDqTMjW9vp9wpTythaWjc5T-L2Rv7PgsrND3EimVkqYHwSRwuX0_qUIzJOSzFDlYgAjRnqI/s200/IMG_20160220_0002.jpg" width="160" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A new actor in Chicago</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Once in Chicago, I had my first professional headshot session. The husband and wife photography team encouraged me to consider the types of jobs that I would be auditioning for (high school & college students, fast food counter girls, entry level office workers), which I admit was something I'd never thought about. The shots done that day accurately reflected me as a young woman in her late teens and early twenties. <br />
<br />
To be honest, I hated my first real headshot so much that I got rid of all of them years ago. It was cute, wholesome and so not me. Like any other twenty-something I was still trying to figure out who I was as an actor, and as a person. (My mother loved the shot, saying that I looked just like singer Leslie Uggams.) But funny thing, that young looking picture got me into several auditions that resulted in several bookings. I played teens into my thirties.<br />
<br />
Throughout this post I've included a few of my favorite commercial headshots that trace my career from a twenty-two year old novice in Chicago through the present in Los Angeles. I recently shared these photos with my current agent. She made an interesting comment: <br />
<em><strong></strong></em><br />
<em><strong>You look the same. What changes is your confidence level as you've grown as a performer.</strong></em><br />
<br />
I've done several headshot sessions, (in Chicago and LA) and have shot with many photographers. I've shot with people who were at the time the <em>new hot photographer in town</em>, photographers who've been referred by actors whose headshots I liked and new photographers just starting out. It doesn't matter, just since the final result is a true reflection of you. <br />
<br />
I'd like to share a few things to keep in mind regarding actors headshots.<br />
<br />
<strong><em>-Never shoot with a photographer whose work you've never seen.</em></strong> You want to see the caliber of work before you commit to a session. This can be easily done online or in person. The perk of meeting someone face to face is that you're able to gauge your comfort level with this person.<br />
<br />
<em><strong>-Do take photographer recommendations from actors you know and trust.</strong></em><br />
<br />
<strong><em>-Never be forced into using a photographer</em></strong>. (I've heard horror stories of less reputable agents and managers getting kickbacks from photographers.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiCMFUKvFeptYyP42G5FmaSbfPqHdF4sNROhPNKkhAs6FyVhfJ6EDnnz0HAHvD4WfhCioXVcZ79X0WryLD6HRhdUUI80hgxKjpkaptmJAUdEaep3czrMwTJ9WllzjMIWmGIVSJvYiP8LLy/s1600/IMG_20160220_0001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiCMFUKvFeptYyP42G5FmaSbfPqHdF4sNROhPNKkhAs6FyVhfJ6EDnnz0HAHvD4WfhCioXVcZ79X0WryLD6HRhdUUI80hgxKjpkaptmJAUdEaep3czrMwTJ9WllzjMIWmGIVSJvYiP8LLy/s200/IMG_20160220_0001.jpg" width="160" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The first shot I felt truly <br />
reflected me</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<em><strong>-The amount of money you pay has nothing to do with the finished product.</strong></em><br />
<br />
<strong><em>-The new hot photographer in town may not be the right photographer for you.</em></strong> I once shot with the new hot person in Chicago who intimidated me so much I cold hardly relax. Much later I shot with the new hot person in LA. Beautiful work and the most money I've ever paid for headshots. The problem was that you could easily spot this woman's work. It seemed that the photographer had become more important than the performer in the headshot.<br />
<br />
-<em><strong>Do you want to hire a makeup artist?</strong></em> This is primarily for women. If you feel comfortable and confident doing your own makeup, do it yourself. In this digital age you can always see how you look before your session begins. I also let the photographer advise me to whether or not I should touch up or alter my makeup as the shoot progresses. I started doing my own makeup years ago when I was about to go into a shoot and was undecided about whether or not to have my makeup done professionally. I was told that the client before me was using a makeup artist they worked with regularly and could stay for me if I desired. As it turned out, the actor before had my coloring. Her makeup was nice, but I knew I could do a better myself. I've done my own makeup ever since. Doing my own makeup is one of my relaxation rituals before a headshot session.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbgtIrfatU6-6reQm-pfr2a7c_rPcHfvsyuhXYdzdz9HCvx9LRla-gJHPrHqqlWDVbhMKVHCdcCBNDEQlBZuH8m0XTeFpDxKeZAputO1IlimI1KXrnMQEjfkbEZ8lAwpDqSEsPcbnKKSoQ/s1600/IMG_20160220_0003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbgtIrfatU6-6reQm-pfr2a7c_rPcHfvsyuhXYdzdz9HCvx9LRla-gJHPrHqqlWDVbhMKVHCdcCBNDEQlBZuH8m0XTeFpDxKeZAputO1IlimI1KXrnMQEjfkbEZ8lAwpDqSEsPcbnKKSoQ/s200/IMG_20160220_0003.jpg" width="160" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">More relaxed in Los Angeles</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<em><strong>-If possible, talk to your agent or manager before you shoot</strong>.</em> Make sure your goals for your headshot sessions are the same. Make sure you know how your agent sees and is marketing you. Ask if there are any current trends you should embrace or avoid (career specific wardrobe, for example) I always ask which <em>categories</em> and <em>age ranges </em>my agent is submitting me for most. If you don't yet have representation, talk to an acting coach, or an actor who knows you and whose opinion you trust.<br />
<br />
<em><strong>-Have a good idea of how the industry sees you.</strong></em> This is something that will change over time. (If at this point in your career, you're an ingénue, don't be photographed as a vixen.)<br />
<br />
<strong><em>-When you arrive at your session, leave your worries at the door, have fun and relax!</em></strong> <br />
<br />
<em><strong>-Be proactive during your session.</strong></em> If an outfit or line of direction isn't working for you, say something. <br />
<br />
-<strong><em>Keep reproductions to a minimum. </em></strong>Thankfully, actors don't need as many photo reproductions as we used to since most castings are done through online submissions.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpcli4GrA3QNFRFWR3_w_9YQtZ4i0p9uqF6DuVO-EKVZRYCRZGlY9QlcdbU23bYd13IPYuO8HFqo_lR4ADzGdRmw_KHP3Qg_vpbv16c4YGS9X2N_1L3PaUefw1lCsG75PYERD37y1-5ddI/s1600/IMG_20160220_0004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpcli4GrA3QNFRFWR3_w_9YQtZ4i0p9uqF6DuVO-EKVZRYCRZGlY9QlcdbU23bYd13IPYuO8HFqo_lR4ADzGdRmw_KHP3Qg_vpbv16c4YGS9X2N_1L3PaUefw1lCsG75PYERD37y1-5ddI/s200/IMG_20160220_0004.jpg" width="160" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This 3/4 shot would never work today.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<em><strong>-Have a headshot that pops:</strong></em> Most casting directors are looking online at smaller versions of your headshot online. Make sure your headshot <em><strong>pops with color and a strong attitude.</strong> </em>Remember, you're sharing the screen with several other actors. A picture that doesn't <em>pop</em> won't be as easily noticed. A vibrant color and good attitude will help your shot get noticed.<br />
<br />
-<em><strong>Keep your headshots updated</strong></em>: I always tried to reshoot every other year. Because technology has increased the number of submissions to those in casting, some industry insiders are recommending that actors change their shots <em>at least</em> once a year to remain fresh and viable.<br />
<br />
-Hopefully you'll have many shots to choose from. Get opinions from those closest to you, and your representation. But remember, let the final decision be yours. With that in mind...<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNBFzdqsn6FD93hns9S7tZnRS3TJPIMHXe7wefDMOSS8lyKPW6KHHuTU_TaAhoo9se5OcIB2UnZx-pyIfnVlqdRPJA2xXGoRzEEXcT6osqoV_kP39-pyQOmNunzPJRxumcQY8doAbwU8F_/s1600/IMG_20160220_0006.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNBFzdqsn6FD93hns9S7tZnRS3TJPIMHXe7wefDMOSS8lyKPW6KHHuTU_TaAhoo9se5OcIB2UnZx-pyIfnVlqdRPJA2xXGoRzEEXcT6osqoV_kP39-pyQOmNunzPJRxumcQY8doAbwU8F_/s200/IMG_20160220_0006.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My last black & white headshot</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<strong><em>-DO NOT BE OVERCRITICAL OF YOUR OWN SHOTS!</em></strong><br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy039YZuw2YquVsBOyNHfi3Ls6jNScqRvSXYaEGCWocu2vURMMWTWZTsiqwlOcvuik90FaDVbUXBki0PRZNo1cI7Fh5rQTVGKNhZzeAVKIAI3VAiEJP8np29eAQCbQUtRKArMW685QWM7I/s1600/D+Primary+2015.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy039YZuw2YquVsBOyNHfi3Ls6jNScqRvSXYaEGCWocu2vURMMWTWZTsiqwlOcvuik90FaDVbUXBki0PRZNo1cI7Fh5rQTVGKNhZzeAVKIAI3VAiEJP8np29eAQCbQUtRKArMW685QWM7I/s320/D+Primary+2015.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From a recent session with Robert Kazandjian<br />
<a href="http://www.kazphoto.com/">www.kazphoto.com</a> </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Several years ago, I was looking at a friend's new headshots. I've known this actor for years, and these were not only his best shots, but these were some of the best headshots I'd ever seen. I made a note to myself that I'd ask for a referral the next time I needed shots, and promptly forgot. When I was asking my agent about photographers, she recommended Robert--who turned out to be the same man who'd done the great shots of my friend the year before. Recently, I did my third headshot session with Robert Kazandjian (<a href="http://www.kazphoto.com/">http://www.kazphoto.com/</a>). Until Robert, I'd never returned to a photographer. I love Robert's work, he's easy to work with, and I always have too many choices, which is a very good thing.<br />
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A few years ago, I did do a session with another photographer from Chicago who was visiting Los Angeles. Beka is one of my oldest friends. She is a multi-talented artist who I met while singing piano bar in the early days of my career. I'd seen several examples of her headshot photography on her website and genuinely liked her worked. I was curious to see how someone who knew me so well would capture me. <br />
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Beka arrived in Los Angeles less than two weeks after I lost my father. I almost considered cancelling our shoot because of my emotional state. We shot late one Saturday morning, outdoors on and around Santa Monica Boulevard in Hollywood. The shots were amazing. She captured a part of me that had always eluded the camera. She put it this way: <br />
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<em><strong>These shots show a woman that has been through something.</strong></em><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beka The Pic-Chick Chicago, IL<br />
<a class="_553k" href="https://www.facebook.com/PhotosByBeka/?ref=hl&__mref=message" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">https://www.facebook.com/PhotosByBeka/?ref=hl</a></td></tr>
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My favorite Beka shot is my current author's photo that I'm using for my Romantic Series, <strong><em>Fall Again. </em></strong>(Incidentally, I showed this shot to Robert Kazandjian last fall during our last headshot session. He <em>loved</em> Beka's shot.)<br />
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I recently found this short film of an experiment done in Australia by The Lab. In <em>Decoy</em>, six photographers shot a single subject. Each was told something different about <em>who</em> the subject was before their sessions. The final photos are amazing and surprisingly different as they created photographs based on their own perceptions. As an actor, I found <em>Decoy</em> interesting and telling. It reminded me that different people, and not only photographers, will see you in entirely different ways.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/F-TyPfYMDK8" width="560"></iframe><br />
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I was a having coffee with an actor friend of mine recently. She pulled up a headshot on her phone and asked for my opinion. I liked the shot because it captured her physically and emotionally. It captured an <em>inner essence</em> that is often missing in headshots. Both the composition and lighting were beautiful. She laughed. "My husband took this on his phone a few weeks ago. I liked the picture and showed it to my agent who insisted we put it on my online profile. I just had some of these reproduced. Can you believe it? A headshot taken on a phone!"<br />
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Is this the way of the future? I don't know. In the meantime, I'm keeping Robert's number on speed dial.<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8507441479242162503.post-5438803631624376832016-02-14T22:03:00.000-08:002016-02-14T22:03:57.802-08:00A Note to New Authors<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"> May 28, 2015 Late Afternoon</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiox0ZFi95Bc0lt4BKVdiV4Vukc_YrI9YH8WAjn4Dri3fH_4hWptolKqoq5EncfIfIeCvh_Hs-LBDpok3K2FQlWdsFMi1nE8FKBhjcJQZi_jLPNE7rA3KyL283Hl7YeEMmDV_3Bqb8hW7QD/s1600/c513f795d42b2f000e3bc5449bfcef59.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiox0ZFi95Bc0lt4BKVdiV4Vukc_YrI9YH8WAjn4Dri3fH_4hWptolKqoq5EncfIfIeCvh_Hs-LBDpok3K2FQlWdsFMi1nE8FKBhjcJQZi_jLPNE7rA3KyL283Hl7YeEMmDV_3Bqb8hW7QD/s320/c513f795d42b2f000e3bc5449bfcef59.jpg" width="212" /></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p>I'd been nervously sitting at my laptop for what seemed like hours contemplating an action that could potentially be life changing. Finally,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I began to feel foolish and decided I couldn’t postpone the inevitable. I took a deep breath, and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">clicked. </i>And just like that, I published my first novel.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">In retrospect, this was a fairly anticlimactic moment as things in my life pretty much remained the same. And now I was no longer simply a writer. I was the one person sales & marketing team for my novel as I entered a new world full of uncertainties, contradictions and every once in a while, victories. And I’ve learned to celebrate even the smallest victories.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I'm currently in the process of revising my third novel, <em>California Girl</em>, in my series, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Fall Again.</i> I’ve had time to reflect on lessons learned from my first two novels and am looking forward to my next book’s publication with confidence and excitement-- instead of trepidation.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Since I'm a fairly new author myself, </span>I’d like to pass on a few things I've learned to new authors. </span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Mentors Rock</span></b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">. I was grateful to have two published authors, (one in my genre), as mentors who led me through the publishing process and held my hand when necessary. These people had been where I was and understood everything I was going through artistically, emotionally and technically.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Have a marketing plan</span></b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">. Do your research and have a plan. There are so many aspects of publishing (traditional & self -publishing) that are beyond your control. Having a good marketing plan will help you maintain some amount of control and sanity. There is a plethora of free information online. (The Create Space Community & -marketingforromancewriters.org- a Yahoo group, as well as other authors have been invaluable resources.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">What works for one author won’t necessarily work for another. </span></b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Marketing is a tricky endeavor, and nothing is guaranteed. I've often described marketing as a Rubik's Cube--a puzzle with many solutions. Find the one(s) that work for you.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Imagine my surprise when I learned<br />
YouTube star GloZell<br />
read and enjoyed my book.</td></tr>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Don’t</span></i></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"> expect your closest friends and family to review or even read your book</span></b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">. This was a hard one for me since I just assumed that those who had cheered me on during the writing process would be my first readers. Once I published, some of these people never mentioned my book again! Don’t ruin relationships. Do remember to thank those who read, and especially those who post reviews.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Remember, you have a life beyond your book. </span></b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Don’t forget your spouse, children and pets. Remember to eat right, exercise and sleep. In short, take care of yourself. You and those around you will be happier!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Enjoy the ride! </span></b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Publishing a book is a major accomplishment that many only dream and talk about…but you actually did it! Congrats.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Danni: my loyal office manager</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">As I wrote <em>Fall Again</em>, I never thought about publishing, marketing or sales. My primary goal was to create a story and characters that people would enjoy. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Three weeks after I published <em>Fall Again: Beginnings,</em> I received a note via my website<em>:</em></span><br />
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<em><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">I
have fallen in love with the characters in this novel and anxiously waiting for
Lost Boy. Any idea when it might be released? Absolutely beautiful novel!! </b></em><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><o:p></o:p></b><br />
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I couldn’t have been happier!<o:p></o:p><br />
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Congratulations...and don’t forget to enjoy the ride! <br />
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<a href="http://www.fallagainseries.com/">The Fall Again Series</a><br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8507441479242162503.post-44180033947093383292016-02-07T23:39:00.000-08:002016-02-07T23:39:27.723-08:00My Actor's Journey Home to New York-- with Special Guest Star Maurice White<div style="text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKas9R-jZYPocejt0Tjj8ZsGjmSc9AKI4hwLGvvbJjXQzkHbCJaMaViCxd4HZ8AdQN0c8WeoOpgrPJx9IjOQTj6fmHr4l33tCC1oBTOTdCXSujfN2MWeLnxmXqRU-aCDSqA_HA9eP2OMfi/s1600/untitled+%252821%2529.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKas9R-jZYPocejt0Tjj8ZsGjmSc9AKI4hwLGvvbJjXQzkHbCJaMaViCxd4HZ8AdQN0c8WeoOpgrPJx9IjOQTj6fmHr4l33tCC1oBTOTdCXSujfN2MWeLnxmXqRU-aCDSqA_HA9eP2OMfi/s400/untitled+%252821%2529.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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<em><strong><span style="font-size: large;">A note to new and young actors and other artists: always have a plan. Then expect that plan to change.</span></strong></em></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBLr2dv4IjYf1ztXSdpJobIQAbIZ0MF_8jdTeqRtW40bebTA4pTQFwfnd-cxNjCVhM2uaSixTcpJHoo76mApHPS8sRNO3bzOY0MNDVQAd-DKTtYEBnaXnvy5q5zPr-5QxwDxocxp07Y-pz/s1600/quote-in-the-70s-george-clinton-and-parliament-funkadelic-and-earth-wind-fire-we-were-very-maurice-white-133-97-77.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="186" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBLr2dv4IjYf1ztXSdpJobIQAbIZ0MF_8jdTeqRtW40bebTA4pTQFwfnd-cxNjCVhM2uaSixTcpJHoo76mApHPS8sRNO3bzOY0MNDVQAd-DKTtYEBnaXnvy5q5zPr-5QxwDxocxp07Y-pz/s400/quote-in-the-70s-george-clinton-and-parliament-funkadelic-and-earth-wind-fire-we-were-very-maurice-white-133-97-77.jpg" width="400" /></a> Again, I was sitting in front of my laptop staring at another obituary. We'd lost <em>another</em> amazing artist. This time, Maurice White, the founder and lead singer of the iconic group, Earth Wind and Fire. The man had a smooth soulful voice that was part of the soundtrack of my life. Upbeat optimistic songs like<em> Fantasy</em>, <em>Shining Star</em> and <em>Septembe</em>r always made me happy, and on occasion sent me running to the dance floor. This music would live forever! <br />
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But Maurice White's passing struck a personal cord. Thinking of him brought up memories of my first professional acting jobs and my unorthodox journey to New York City. This will make sense later.<br />
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I booked my first acting job when I was a junior at Emerson College in Boston, MA. I had desperately wanted to attend college in New York City, but my parents wouldn't even consider the thought. The idea of me<em> ever </em>being in New York was terrifying to them. But once I had my degree in hand, I'd move to New York with its hustle and bustle, art, history and culture. Most importantly, the center of the American Theater was in New York. I planned to make my living on the stage and could never imagine calling any place else home.<br />
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At Emerson, I was cast as Vera (the ingénue) in <em>A Month in the Country</em>. A casting director from WGBH (Public Television) was looking for young-looking actors to portray high school students in a new television series, <em>The New Voice.</em> The show centered around the staff of a high school newspaper, The Voice. (The Christian Science Monitor called it <em>Lou Grant</em> with teenagers.)<br />
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Several of us were brought in to audition. A few months, later I was booked on the show. I was shaking as I took the call from casting on the pay phone in my dormitory hallway. I was told what to bring, given a call time, and told I'd be paid $25 for the day. Casting also gave me a brief description of my character; "You're a mean spirited student who makes an insensitive remark about another student." <br />
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I remember arriving at the WGBH Studio on the morning of my shoot. I arrived early; a habit I've maintained to this day. My makeup was applied professionally for the first time and wardrobe put me in a wrap around denim skirt and green button down shirt. I remember being escorted to the set and trying not to be overwhelmed by the flurry of activity, crew, lights and camera.<br />
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My scene took place in the school's hallway. The situation involved the arrival of a new Native American student. I was to come around the corner, see him, and deliver the line, "Where's John Wayne when you need him." I was to laugh sarcastically as I exited downstage. I was directed to <em>keep it real.</em> I tried to forget that my grandfather was Native American , and channeled my inner "bitch." <br />
Two takes later it was over. The stage manager thanked me and told me I'd done a good job. I hated to leave.<br />
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Later in my dorm room, I sat on my bed holding my check from WGBH. In a surreal moment realized I was <em>now </em>a professional actor. The next year, after graduation, I'd be moving to New York where I'd have more days like this one.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGeijy3wDKIMhxsVqMw8y5gBW6_sEM1M5QvF6rWJ291uTM8dHTzm5aK8O8K6NgVfTcCzs6LhA-T4m08At2gDAZRT19WU2mS0aouggSM9VIfAnLdzkUJjMqi1dP7_TvS-QzkzZMI-UdrBLc/s1600/5510aaa4f503c42ec74f56173ac4d454.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGeijy3wDKIMhxsVqMw8y5gBW6_sEM1M5QvF6rWJ291uTM8dHTzm5aK8O8K6NgVfTcCzs6LhA-T4m08At2gDAZRT19WU2mS0aouggSM9VIfAnLdzkUJjMqi1dP7_TvS-QzkzZMI-UdrBLc/s320/5510aaa4f503c42ec74f56173ac4d454.jpg" width="213" /></a>I held on to my day on set by keeping my makeup on until I went to bed. I fell asleep reliving every moment on set that day, and imagined my life in New York City.<br />
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But a funny thing happened on my way to New York. I ended up in Chicago.<br />
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A few months before graduation I started to make plans. While I was still focused on getting to New York, to remain proactive, I mailed out my first (awful ) headshots and resumes to 20 theaters in different parts of the country- I remember The Arena Stage in Washington, DC and ACT in San Francisco received packets. I laugh at my naiveté. Had I'd known that in reality a cold mailing was virtually useless, I would have saved the postage. <br />
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Meanwhile in Boston, I had a good audition an callback for the Boston Shakespeare Company. I prayed for a phone call offering me a position by the end of the week when the final decisions were made. If I was in Boston, at least I'd only be a few hours away from New York. <br />
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Friday night, I was devastated, having not received a phone call.<br />
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But Monday afternoon, a theater in Chicago called me on the dorm pay phone. They had received one of my packets-- and wanted to talk to me about the possibility of me coming to Chicago. Long story short, a week later I was in Chicago beginning my first day of rehearsal at The Free Street Theater. I was hired as an Actor's Equity Apprentice for $150/week.<br />
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A few nights later, I received a call from a dorm mate in Boston. "Boston Shakespeare is trying to get in touch with you. They want to offer you a contract for their touring company!" I hung up the phone and cried. <br />
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I was in Chicago and employed as an actor in a professional theater company. I decided that I was in Chicago for a reason, and I stayed for three and a half years. I made the best of my time. By the time I left, I had several theater, commercial and industrial credits. I supplemented my actor's income by singing piano bar and by sometimes doing commercial modeling.<br />
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I was further away from New York than I wanted to be, but honestly, NYC was still only a plane ride away.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>A commercial modeling gig in Chicago</em></td></tr>
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Chicago is a wonderful place for an actor to begin a career and learn the <em>business of the business</em>. A few years later when I was again plotting my move to New York , I 'd joined SAG, AFTRA and was eligible to join AEA. Professional credits and being a union member would make me a viable performer in NYC.<br />
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But then, a weird thing happened. A friend of a friend was visiting from Los Angeles. I was told this man was in the industry. I remember smiling politely because I'd learned that many people outside of the industry only <em>think </em>they know someone in the industry. He gave me his card and I thought nothing of it...until he called me a month later. Apparently, he had a friend casting a new television series, and there was a role that might be right for me. He asked if it would be possible for me to be in LA in three weeks. This sounded too good to be true.<br />
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I was young, but I'd developed some business savvy. I asked if I could look at my calendar and call him back the next morning. In reality I wanted to do some research. In this pre-internet age, I called a reference librarian at the Chicago Public Library and gave her the information on the business card. This man turned out to be a legitimate talent manager who represented named talent. His father helped to establish The William Morris Agency in Los Angeles.<br />
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I'd never been west of the Dallas/Fort Worth Airport. I'd never thought about Los Angeles let alone <em>living</em> in los Angeles. But in a huge leap of faith, I left Chicago three weeks later, for good. I felt I couldn't pass on this opportunity. New York, while now an even longer plane ride away, would always be there. <br />
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When I left Chicago it was seventeen degrees. When I arrived in LA, it was sunny and seventy-five degrees.<br />
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I didn't book the role that initially brought me to LA. But remember, an actor is always auditioning for the future. The casting director I first met also cast a soap opera, and asked if I'd be interested. (She would put me to work the next year. My first scene was with Genie Francis on <em>Days of Our Lives.)</em><br />
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I loved the laid back atmosphere in Los Angeles. The city is large, but I soon discovered areas and neighborhoods that I enjoyed. I loved the weather, views and the fact that I could find absolutely anything and everything. <br />
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The professional opportunities seemed endless. My LA contact was helping me find representation. But in the meantime, I was invited to his office everyday to look through the breakdowns. His office would make submissions on my behalf. <br />
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A few weeks after arriving in Los Angeles, I had my first LA audition on a street called Melrose Place. I don't remember too much after I learned this was an audition for a music video for Maurice White of Earth Wind and Fire. He was doing a solo project and had recorded a cover of Ben King's <em>Stand By Me</em>. Two days later I booked my first LA job.<br />
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The next week, I arrived at the makeup trailer for the <em>Stand By Me</em> music video. I was part of the <em>street </em>ensemble. They wanted me to look<em> very</em> young, so they applied a lot of pink blusher, lipstick and teased my hair. Wardrobe put me in a white mini skirt and go go boots that were a half size too small, but I didn't care.<br />
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I remember Maurice White on the set. He was friendly, down to earth and said hello to everyone, myself included. It all seemed so <em>normal</em>. At 2:00 AM, I was dancing to playback on the streets of Hollywood below the iconic Hollywood sign--and everything seemed <em>right</em>. I was happy, content and performing. A serene feeling came over me as I realized I was never going to be a New Yorker. I was already<em> home</em> in Los Angeles. <br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="270" src="//www.dailymotion.com/embed/video/x3j3la" width="480"></iframe><br />
<a href="http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x3j3la_maurice-white-stand-by-me-1985_news" target="_blank">Maurice White. Stand By Me.1985</a> <i>by <a href="http://www.dailymotion.com/capitainfunkk" target="_blank">capitainfunkk</a></i>
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<br />
While I'd always planned to be a New Yorker, circumstances continually moved me west until I found my way home to California. Five years after my arrival in Los Angeles, I met my husband. I've continued to work as an actor, and recently began writing. <br />
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A few years ago, as I began writing what would eventually turn into <em>Fall Again, (</em>a four-part contemporary romance series), one of my goals was to create a realistic look at the lives of working actors and other artists. My characters are grounded hard working professionals, each with his or her own path. It's not autobiographical, though some events were inspired by incidents in my life, or the lives of fellow performers. The most recent novel <span id="goog_1903073650"></span><em><a href="https://www.blogger.com/">Fall Again: Lost Boy<span id="goog_1903073651"></span></a></em> deals with the life of a New York actor who becomes disillusioned with New York. This is the story of his search for professional and personal fulfillment. This is in addition to a primary romantic storyline.<br />
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Those of us in the creative and performing arts are often misunderstood by the general population who can't understand that we can make a real living in an artistic or creative field. During one of my most successful years in the industry, my father asked me I got paid for appearing on TV shows and commercials. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>As a newcomer to Hollywood in the Stand By Me Video</em></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Today</em></td></tr>
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The Stand by Me music video was shot in Hollywood on Cherokee <br />
between Hollywood Boulevard and Selma Avenue, blocks away from where I'm currently living. When I heard about Maurice White's passing, I took a walk over to the location of the <em>Stand By</em> <em>Me</em> video and where I began my career in Los Angeles. I suppose in an indirect way, Maurice White had something to do with that. If he had not recorded the song, there would not have been a video which marked the beginning of my professional life in this city that I've come to love and call home.<br />
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While I've highlighted several of my successes, remember, like any creative, I've had good years, not so good years and extremely challenging years. I've had periods of self doubt, have had family issues about my career choices, and have seen the industry and rules change for working class actors like myself. Thankfully I've always been able to reinvent myself when necessary, have clung to a strong work ethic, (an artistic career <em>is</em> hard work), and have never lost my passion. <br />
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<br />
I looked at the building where the <em>Stand By Me</em> video began. I said a silent goodbye to a man, who has been part of the soundtrack of my life, and in a way, unknowingly helped me find my way home.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8507441479242162503.post-43694029547034963732016-01-24T22:15:00.001-08:002016-01-24T22:15:39.270-08:00In Rememberance of an Artist: Writer Steve Robinson<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHJm7KtbZ1jEhMmjJ0T8Ny16igvoJvsUrx_P-Z-jEWJ_eVie-gfHPFZGYU0Qh2tW5ijPkf-nTlKPcblrbIIqGcHGFb68mdE58KnYTkzpEjTzAhXtyk2DNzLiAeEkIAoONe8j2QfOQerV82/s1600/12575865_10154014623534574_51761189_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="362" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHJm7KtbZ1jEhMmjJ0T8Ny16igvoJvsUrx_P-Z-jEWJ_eVie-gfHPFZGYU0Qh2tW5ijPkf-nTlKPcblrbIIqGcHGFb68mdE58KnYTkzpEjTzAhXtyk2DNzLiAeEkIAoONe8j2QfOQerV82/s400/12575865_10154014623534574_51761189_n.jpg" width="400" /></a>It had been a tough week for many of us with the passing of two exceptional artists: David Bowie and Alan Rickman, both who made notable impacts on our culture. But the untimely passing of another artist from within my own circle left me shocked, stunned and without words. It's been just over a week now, and have once again found my voice. I'd like to share a few memories of another exceptional artist: a talented writer and very dear friend, Steve Robinson.<br />
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Steve was a tremendous writer, storyteller and performer: a true artist. I first met him several years ago when my husband and I found our way to Story Salon when I was looking for a venue to try out material for a future solo show. <br />
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Among that night's performers was Steve Robinson. He impressed me with his words, brutal honesty and engaging storytelling.<br />
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Later, as I got to know him, I learned that I was familiar with some of his work. Since 1981 he had watched TV professionally when he worked for TV Guide writing listings, Close-ups and criticisms for TV GUIDE Magazine/Online. But I soon learned that Steve was an amazing writer who, over the years, would share stories of Hollywood, women and nighttime drives along deserted two-lane highways.<br />
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Many of Steve's stories can be found in his book, <em>Why Stevie Can't Date</em>, a collection of autobiographical short stories.<br />
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In his own words, <strong><em>Why Stevie Can't Date grew from my participation in </em></strong><a href="http://www.storysalon.com/"><strong><em>Story Salon</em></strong></a><strong><em>, L.A.'s longest running storytelling venue. I like to say it's about a couple of cars; a couple of girlfriends; a couple of wives; a couple of hookers; and a couple of days in jail. But not necessarily all together.</em></strong><br />
<strong></strong><br />
Jay Leno said,<strong> <em>"Steve's life is a lot like Hugh Hefner's, but without the money, the women or the mansion. Most guys lie about sex. Steve doesn't. He makes the same mistakes we all make, but he tells you about them. A funny look at growing up on the fringes of show business." </em></strong><br />
<strong><em></em></strong><br />
Steve had an incredible sense of humor and the most wonderful laugh. He must have inherited this gift from his father, 50's radio host, Henry Morgan.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After a Story Salon performance </td></tr>
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Steve always supported his friends and fellow artists. Not long ago, I began to produce fiction nights at Story Salon. I was the newest producer at the salon, and unsure of how receptive our Salon members would be to something different. (Our storytellers tell true first person narratives.) I wanted strong writers for this first show, and Steve was the first person who came to mind. However, I was hesitant to ask him.<br />
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By now, Steve had moved to Laughlin, Nevada, almost three hundred miles away. He made the four and a half hour drive to Los Angeles every four to six weeks to attend and perform at Story Salon. He'd drive directly to the Salon, then immediately afterwards, drive back to Nevada. I often feared for his safety driving alone so late at night, and once asked him about the long drive. I knew he'd often steer clear of the interstates to travel the forgotten desert roads that many times were only lit by stars. His reply, "Donna, I love it!"<br />
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I did ask him to participate in the first fiction night and at first, he hesitated. "I'm flattered, but I've never written fiction." <br />
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This surprised me, but I also had a feeling. "But I believe you can! If you write something, I'd love to have you on the show."<br />
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And he accepted. The drive and distance was never an issue. The important thing was that he was supporting a friend. As a result, he pushed himself in a new direction. His story that night was incredible. I dropped him a line to tell him.<br />
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">Donna:</span><br />
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<span class="null"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhm972686VJfDgZ4eqnKUvMpoNb5_13oLx21zpHsB7-9CALdP3KZvFtT3dAa7sKQ9CnAY693cUk_y3xMhIG-2T3hQg93rExY8mISoAKU66oYIz73feWNq3JJtsx45KZxjHcKHXi4o5bUJL/s1600/12607235_10154028866894574_1309031242_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhm972686VJfDgZ4eqnKUvMpoNb5_13oLx21zpHsB7-9CALdP3KZvFtT3dAa7sKQ9CnAY693cUk_y3xMhIG-2T3hQg93rExY8mISoAKU66oYIz73feWNq3JJtsx45KZxjHcKHXi4o5bUJL/s320/12607235_10154028866894574_1309031242_n.jpg" width="240" /></a><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">Hi Steve. Thanks again for coming to LA last night. Your piece was weird, wonderful and more than a little creepy...in a good way. Thanks for going there! I'm so glad that you allowed yourself to stretch by venturing into the realm of fiction. By asking you to participate I may have opened the (fiction) door for you, but you walked...or ran through that door on your own power, and the end result was excellent. It was in you all along! Take care. Donna</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">He responded the next morning.</span></span></div>
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<span class="_2oy"></span><br />
<span class="_2oy">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">Steve:</span></span></div>
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<span class="null"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">Donna, thank you so much for opening that door and for these most kind words about the result. A wonderful, exhilarating experience! See you soon. Steve</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial";"></span><br />
<br />
He would return to Los Angeles a few more times to read more of his original fiction. I was always grateful.<br />
<br />
Steve's performed his last story at the Salon on November 4, 2015. I was not there. I was under a self- imposed deadline of November 13 for the publication of my second novel <em>Fall Again: Lost Boy.</em> In a rare move, I'd stayed home to work. When I learned that Steve,( a supporter of my writing and my series, <em>Fall Again),</em> had been in town I was disappointed that I'd missed him. I looked forward to seeing him later</span><span class="null">.</span></div>
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Unfortunately, later sometimes becomes <em>never</em>.</div>
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<span class="null"><br />
A heart attack took Steve from us on January 13. He was 63.<br />
<br />
Steve was a kind, generous and creative man. He was respected, well-liked and much loved. He touched many lives and will truly be missed.<br />
<br />
My words truly do nothing to describe Steve. To know him is to experience him through his own words. Here's his last story performed at the Salon on November 4, 2015.</span></div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/5qc5mg7HThk" width="560"></iframe>
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<span class="null"><br />
</span><span class="null">There are many gifted and talented people working in the artistic and performing arts. Most of these artists will never achieve fame or notoriety, though neither of these thing are measures of talent or ability. Most tragically, the general population will never have the privilege of experiencing their work, artistry...or magic. During a week when we lost two artists named David and Alan, we lost at least one more. His name was Steve.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHO5eRcLCGhhPrfyiMj2t02jZWtNREoC5GD20SLYfktHdq8zzZKlv6w_q4LQQ1O7ERUhsChbUa58JnletHRzcZe_Pv5zzIsSdlDT8B3KfItiN8ITpjTiUtPJ83Qc8yhJQTAR7HdFLMjysb/s1600/images+%252810%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="197" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHO5eRcLCGhhPrfyiMj2t02jZWtNREoC5GD20SLYfktHdq8zzZKlv6w_q4LQQ1O7ERUhsChbUa58JnletHRzcZe_Pv5zzIsSdlDT8B3KfItiN8ITpjTiUtPJ83Qc8yhJQTAR7HdFLMjysb/s200/images+%252810%2529.jpg" width="200" /></a>As I remember Steve, I find it strange that I don't visualize him where I saw him most--onstage telling one of his stories. Instead, I see him behind the wheel of his car. He's driving down an infinite two-lane highway. Above him are the moon and stars of a brilliant nighttime desert sky. <br />
<br />
Goodnight Steve. <br />
Safe journey.<br />
</span><strong></strong></div>
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<br />
<a href="http://whysteviecantdate.com/book/index.html">Why Stevie Can't Date</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://storysalon.com/">Story Salon</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.fallagainseries.com/">Fall Again: Lost Boy</a><br />
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<strong></strong><br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8507441479242162503.post-29116740900013001772016-01-17T21:48:00.000-08:002016-01-17T21:48:14.603-08:00 My Husband is Seeing Another Woman: A Matter of Style<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBrDAmVunRLtgqgOfQd542wPo-z3R7JWXojX__nS4vYsKYI9gHBm2D7wPNohyqTBgjocf0tVgqVOIlmAOTosm_cGVnjK_v7474HuajFiNSLu0rpKXGOIM7_TSkGt5SkWyDWuV4LrpIEhOB/s1600/12575911_10154013724374574_939018674_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBrDAmVunRLtgqgOfQd542wPo-z3R7JWXojX__nS4vYsKYI9gHBm2D7wPNohyqTBgjocf0tVgqVOIlmAOTosm_cGVnjK_v7474HuajFiNSLu0rpKXGOIM7_TSkGt5SkWyDWuV4LrpIEhOB/s400/12575911_10154013724374574_939018674_n.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Claudia Wells with Tony Figueroa</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I'm enjoying a rare morning home alone. There's a cup of tea at my side, a cat at my feet as a Chopin piano concerto plays in the background. I'm catching up on my recreational reading (Maria McKenzie's new mystery, <em>From Cad to Cadaver</em>). All is right in my world-that is until I receive a text from my husband, Tony. I open the message to find a photo-and I know immediately. He's with <em>her!</em> <br />
<br />
I study the photograph and can't help smiling. There's no denying that Tony looks great in the well worn leather jacket, something that he probably wouldn't have gravitated to until fairly recently, when <em>she </em>came into his life<em>. </em>From his expression, I can<em> </em>see that he's also loving the jacket. It seems to be bringing out different part of his personality-that I'm liking a lot!<br />
<br />
She's good. <em>Really good!</em><br />
<br />
I set my mystery aside and respond to the text.<br />
<em>Love the jacket! Tell Claudia hi.</em><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7G-8345e1t76h1IJJ1LWY0xMgKrQGBSIzadq80h2jyt3dCoLmarSILm2d7iiPA8qWm0tTqcdmgZgJLHg7c8OxBd9-1zoJxexLdACdS_gDJIFA_k8ql8PWrytYIhv66ItucR3qLG6GepzR/s1600/12509172_891904654250852_2889897669502010059_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7G-8345e1t76h1IJJ1LWY0xMgKrQGBSIzadq80h2jyt3dCoLmarSILm2d7iiPA8qWm0tTqcdmgZgJLHg7c8OxBd9-1zoJxexLdACdS_gDJIFA_k8ql8PWrytYIhv66ItucR3qLG6GepzR/s200/12509172_891904654250852_2889897669502010059_n.jpg" width="111" /></a>Sure, I'm perfectly fine with this. You see Claudia, is Claudia Wells: a woman with an incredible sense of style, and the owner of Armani Wells; a high end men's resale shop located in Studio City, CA. Here customers can find
high fashion men's apparel at
below retail value. Her prices are fantastic! But for many men, like my husband, Claudia will forever be known as Jennifer Parker, Marty McFly's present day girlfriend in the film, <em>Back to the Future</em>. <br />
<br />
Tony has been visiting Jennifer- or Claudia, at Armani Wells on a semi-regular basis for about a year now. The first time he visited her store, he came in only to purchase a "Save the Clock Tower" Tee shirt that he hoped she would autograph. But once in her store, she began to select items from her inventory for him to try. A few hours later he returned home with a newfound sense of <em>style </em>and some very nice clothes.<br />
<br />
<br />
When I first met Tony, most of his wardrobe consisted mostly of tee shirts-most obtained for free during assorted promotional giveaways. There were a many, many logos. I often told Tony he looked like a walking billboard. I'd like to take at least partial credit for improving his wardrobe when we were dating. I considered it a small victory when he started to purchase and wear plain tee shirts. I was flattered when he asked me to go shopping with him he first time to purchase some new basics. He wanted to update and elevate his wardrobe. I'd bragged about my shopping expertise, so he was going to put me to the test. I guess I did okay, because a year later he married me.<br />
<br />
I consider myself an athletic class shopper, always in search of the ultimate bargain. (I recently purchased a brand new unworn pair of Brazilian boots-leather upper/leather sole for $4 at a church thrift store.) I rarely pay full price for anything. My shopping has taken me beyond the mall to small boutiques, estate sales, thrift stores, and vintage and resale shops. I love searching for unique pieces wherever I can find them. <br />
<br />
For me shopping is a recreational activity-something that my husband, and many other men, just can't understand. Maybe Tony didn't hate shopping, but I'm pretty sure he considered it a necessary evil and shopped for clothes as little as possible. Over the years I've assisted him in building a current versatile wardrobe. But since his first visit to Armani Wells, Tony has developed an excellent sense of personal style. And I can understand why. Claudia's store is well-organized, easy to browse and the selection high end of items is excellent. <br />
<br />
But the best part of Armani Wells is Claudia and her equally stylish and knowledgeable associate, Sissi. These ladies know their customers and inventory. I've seen them in action as they pull specific items for their customers which most of the time (at least in Tony's case) have been perfect for their physiques and lifestyles. This makes for a pleasant and stress free shopping experience. Claudia and Sissi are no less than amazing, not to mention friendly and personable. <br />
<br />
But I'm sure that many guys make their way to Armani Wells to meet Marty McFly's <br />
girlfriend, Jennifer Parker.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKxqKf0AEbJW6ahDWWdzuY7D-sNNi9UeSzX0UdFth85FrvmM6VyiSN49J-2Xb2tmAiDDKjLXLFoBQVQYbQ7f0_QRXsejJw87zll7jeKNhX2OSNdH9ceBAPzmRZE83GxwfnxK7cLLwYRlfa/s1600/roads.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKxqKf0AEbJW6ahDWWdzuY7D-sNNi9UeSzX0UdFth85FrvmM6VyiSN49J-2Xb2tmAiDDKjLXLFoBQVQYbQ7f0_QRXsejJw87zll7jeKNhX2OSNdH9ceBAPzmRZE83GxwfnxK7cLLwYRlfa/s200/roads.jpg" width="131" /></a>Tony and I recently had lunch with <span class="a-size-medium">Caseen Gaines,</span> author of <em>We Don't Need Roads: The Making of the Back to the Future Trilogy. </em>I asked him why he thought there was an allure surrounding Jennifer Parker. He told me that Jennifer was smart, pretty, personable and supported her man. In other words, <em>Jennifer Parker is</em><em> the ideal girlfriend</em>.<br />
<br />
I'm sure many of Claudia's customers come in to hopefully meet Jennifer, but I'm also sure that once they enter the store and meet Claudia, they're won over by the fashion. And guys, this is a very good thing<em>-</em>when you look good,<em> we </em>look good!<br />
<em></em><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBj7LzmBvXxJbjmFZ2rnIIQ-NF7Kw7NANj2uADy3hMlIOD5tQQsQBkSqVI4NNZOy9LVVpW-P8HzroRenQvd4hoTnCGZwG5ZVO6xmI777qnNIl9k0LoMHsviNIjo3a3FtXp7e2UndZpxgs7/s1600/946117_10154011885404574_7850791368889801200_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBj7LzmBvXxJbjmFZ2rnIIQ-NF7Kw7NANj2uADy3hMlIOD5tQQsQBkSqVI4NNZOy9LVVpW-P8HzroRenQvd4hoTnCGZwG5ZVO6xmI777qnNIl9k0LoMHsviNIjo3a3FtXp7e2UndZpxgs7/s200/946117_10154011885404574_7850791368889801200_n.jpg" width="110" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Tony visits Armani Wells whenever he's in the neighborhood. He was there last week to pick up the current Jennifer Parker tee shirt. He took a look at Claudia's new offerings and sent me photos via texts. Yes, he still wants my opinion, but I know he's in good hands. Claudia (and I) assisted him in his choices. A short time later he left the store with some beautiful shirts and a great leather jacket. <br />
<br />
So Claudia, Sissi-many thanks! Thank for helping Tony improve and find his personal style. He looks amazing!<br />
<br />
Yesterday, after seeing a few photos of Tony on social media, a friend commented that Tony is always dressed so well, and asked if I picked out his clothes. I responded:<br />
<br />
<em> <span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="UFICommentBody">Lately, I've been letting two other women dress him-Claudia Wells and her associate Sissi @ Armani Wells. Now if I could only find a way to get George Clooney to dress me.</span></span></em><br />
<em><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="UFICommentBody"></span></span></em><br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="UFICommentBody">You see guys, we have our <em>own</em> ideas about an ideal boyfriend. But then, that's a topic for another post.</span></span><br />
<br />
Thanks for dropping by!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgs9BFGzlelNRk8FSDV-09RWvfWHSXFi_yXjULdsx-0yHj1Gr_XDAyMsJlS6EQLVC2RTRuqZKgJ3M1Xgh46wzDiaV67xgjd6CUuN3cFZ6M2w_JGQ3603xz4RzMYGHN2cPfXcB7a1WK4gSP/s1600/12571365_10154013724369574_1822436021_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="247" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgs9BFGzlelNRk8FSDV-09RWvfWHSXFi_yXjULdsx-0yHj1Gr_XDAyMsJlS6EQLVC2RTRuqZKgJ3M1Xgh46wzDiaV67xgjd6CUuN3cFZ6M2w_JGQ3603xz4RzMYGHN2cPfXcB7a1WK4gSP/s320/12571365_10154013724369574_1822436021_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="UFICommentBody"><strong>Visit the Armani Wells site @ </strong><a href="http://www.armaniwells.com/aw/"><strong>www.armaniwells.com</strong></a></span></span><br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="UFICommentBody"><strong></strong></span></span><br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="UFICommentBody"><strong>And do check out <em><a href="http://www.caseengaines.com/Books-WeDontNeedRoads.html">We Don't Need Roads: The Making of the Back to the Future Trilogy</a> </em></strong></span></span><br />
<br />
<strong>And Maria Makenzie's smart & funny mystery, </strong><em><strong><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Cad-Cadaver-Detective-Agency-Mystery-ebook/dp/B017Y87GC0/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1453076273&sr=1-1&keywords=from+cad+to+cadaver">From Cad to Cadaver</a> </strong></em><br />
<br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="UFICommentBody"><strong></strong></span></span><br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8507441479242162503.post-25853053413014799182016-01-11T23:56:00.002-08:002016-01-11T23:56:49.210-08:00A few thoughts on David Bowie<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_ipc0ngn_gM4WobeWifpoD3YJDD1IMs23TfjBU4FrkjHEL1gUlVw2OnWPlP8RTADWwMjDY-khDPcmf3AooDTBubSBxmJFemqt_1aieEyG2PfxAM1CUlnaHJe0yRkpKK6wLscnmLxqozfs/s1600/images+%25287%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_ipc0ngn_gM4WobeWifpoD3YJDD1IMs23TfjBU4FrkjHEL1gUlVw2OnWPlP8RTADWwMjDY-khDPcmf3AooDTBubSBxmJFemqt_1aieEyG2PfxAM1CUlnaHJe0yRkpKK6wLscnmLxqozfs/s1600/images+%25287%2529.jpg" /></a>It's been less than twenty-four hours since I learned of the death of David Bowie. I learned of this last night as I was checking email for the last time before going to sleep. The post, via Deadline Hollywood, had appeared in my inbox less than a minute before: David Bowie Dies: Rock & Cultural Icon Was 69. <br />
<br />
Like so many others, I was shocked and for a few moments couldn't speak. I quickly showed the headline to my husband who asked, "Is this appearing anywhere else?"<br />
<br />
That's when multiple posts from many other sources started to appear. I went to sleep sad in the knowledge that this world had lost another phenomenal talent. <br />
<br />
But when I awoke this morning, I was still feeling profound sadness-and for the life of me couldn't explain why. I was never a huge fan of David Bowie and had never purchased any of his music, but his passing had affected me.<br />
<br />
I first heard David Bowie's music on AM radio as a kid growing up in the Midwest. I remember thinking that his voice had a unique quality while his melodies stood apart from the majority of the sound alike pop music of the seventies. His sound was different than anything I'd ever heard.<br />
<br />
He came to my hometown of Cincinnati, Ohio to perform in concert. I was much too young to attend, but heard about this concert through a family friend, Geri Sowell.<br />
<br />
Geri was different than any of my parents friends. She was an artist and very active in the cultural scene. She seemed to be at every gallery opening, and attended live performances of just about anything coming into town. While my parents would never attend a huge concert, hating crowds and dismissing the music as noise, Geri had attended the David Bowie concert and told us about it the next morning over brunch. I can sill see her siting in our solarium in a long gauzy Indian dress, huge turquoise earrings and sporting a new shag haircut. She'd experienced something incredible.<br />
<br />
"The venue was packed! There were tons of lights around the arena and over the stage, so I knew we were in for something big. The house lights went down, the music started low and got louder before the lights came on full and Bowie took the stage. I thought there was going to be a riot! People started yelling and booing-and this joker next to me is yelling that he wants his money back."<br />
<br />
She went on to explain that many of the concert goers knew David Bowie's music, but not his race. Many in the integrated audience learned that the David Bowie, was white.<br />
<br />
She continued. "But things calmed down pretty quickly. This man's music <em>transcends</em> race, and by the third or fourth song <em>everyone</em> was into it. I've never seen anything like it! He put on a great show, but this was so much more than a concert. This was an experience that I'll never forget!"<br />
<br />
Geri Sowell's story made an impression on me. I'd never thought of David Bowie's music in terms of black and white, simply because in my young mind I'd always thought music was <em>colorless.</em> I'd certainly never thought music could have power; in this case the power to win over a difficult audience.<br />
<br />
Over the years I followed David Bowie's career and was continually amazed as he reinvented himself. I enjoyed seeing the transformations that were more than just costume and makeup changes- he evolved from the inside. He was much more than a singer or actor; this man was a true artist. He dared to be different, which, in a way told me that conforming to the norm was merely an option in a world full of options. <br />
<br />
When I was studying acting in New York City, I went out with a group of friends and fellow acting students. We eventually found ourselves in a Greenwich Village club that had a dance floor. I heard the first few notes of a favorite David Bowie song blare over the speakers and heard myself say, "I love this song!" <br />
<br />
That's when one friend, (a guy I was majorly crushing on), grabbed my hand and pulled me onto the floor. "Then c'mon!" <br />
<br />
For whatever reason, while dancing that night, my life suddenly made sense. I was genuinely happy. I was in New York City, studying acting and in essence, beginning my career. I was with a group of very good friends and dancing with an incredible guy. My future was ahead of me and filled with endless possibilities. It was a rare <em>perfect</em> moment. That night, <em>Let's Dance </em>became my personal anthem for embracing life. To this day I can't hear that song without vividly remembering that night and smiling.<br />
<br />
I suppose it's simply a part of life. As we grow older, more and more people who've always been in our lives pass on. Sometimes, it's hard say goodbye. David Bowie's passing was unexpected. Through his artistic talents, he touched countless lives. He became part of the soundtrack of my life when I was very young...and am so grateful.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtWc87_dEq_DK6MhM01CcSq3Jil0HpC91Msub0EGi4zp2Cx9IDcJqnK9ViZpw6OH-hGrt7WGdbU_47zrlB2TPI4EWHJAqhRolAKPZupWZmSw-kzXIxEV7kHklyTIxNPgwYA0Tzw_P46C5T/s1600/images+%25286%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtWc87_dEq_DK6MhM01CcSq3Jil0HpC91Msub0EGi4zp2Cx9IDcJqnK9ViZpw6OH-hGrt7WGdbU_47zrlB2TPI4EWHJAqhRolAKPZupWZmSw-kzXIxEV7kHklyTIxNPgwYA0Tzw_P46C5T/s1600/images+%25286%2529.jpg" /></a>Much love to Iman and his family.<br />
<br />
Funny, I can't seem to get that song out of my head.<br />
<br />
<em>Let's dance,<br />Put on your red shoes and dance the blues<br />Let's dance,<br />To the song they're playin' on the radio<br />Let's sway,<br />While color lights up your face<br />Let's sway,<br />Sway through the crowd to an empty space...</em><br />
<em></em><br />
Goodnight David. Safe journeys.<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8507441479242162503.post-53881767363219825042016-01-10T22:30:00.001-08:002016-01-10T22:30:15.117-08:00A Delicate Balance<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxZVrh7dUpG6J9X0hzo8gXDYbuKSWSINR1kw7msWgBNxpX8JFGvd-rJYlBBvWcPQ-FAJGj1oWyFRLs2_SCcW07t4fufMZTQfHhFMOKRFQOkQNbXpXEeR_rmtNep5mx8ABL43z84rHykYqB/s1600/imagesBTQJDI2H.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxZVrh7dUpG6J9X0hzo8gXDYbuKSWSINR1kw7msWgBNxpX8JFGvd-rJYlBBvWcPQ-FAJGj1oWyFRLs2_SCcW07t4fufMZTQfHhFMOKRFQOkQNbXpXEeR_rmtNep5mx8ABL43z84rHykYqB/s200/imagesBTQJDI2H.jpg" width="200" /></span></a><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">That incredible wonderful weird feeling washed over me as I was suddenly struck with inspiration and unbelievable clarity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My fingers moved quickly over the keyboard in a desperate attempt to keep up with my mind which was racing frantically. Prior to this moment, I’d struggled with a pivotal scene in book one of my romantic series, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Fall Again: Beginnings</i>. </span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The scene involved my two main characters, Marc and Lauren, and the first time they're alone together. They’re <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">just</i> friends. He thinks she’s a spoiled little princess while she’s labeled him an arrogant New York actor. By the end of the scene these negative perceptions must become mutual respect as an attraction begins. This shift in attitudes needs to happen honestly and organically, and until moments before had no idea how this would happen. But suddenly my hands were effortlessly flying over the keys as Marc and Lauren began to discover each other’s true selves.</span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Donna!” </span></span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I was startled away from Marc’s New York apartment to find myself in my own Los Angeles apartment, in bed with my laptop. In front of me is my husband, Tony.</span></span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">He hands me a cup of coffee. “We need to leave for work in twenty minutes.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 107%;">Tony had interrupted my impromptu morning writing session. He's been more than patient with me since I began writing. He’s never complained that I don’t always cook dinner, (our favorite Chinese delivery place is on speed dial), and our home is not always as neat and clean as it could be. But Tony fully supports me and my writing, which helps me believe in myself.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 107%;">Thankfully, Tony also knows when to pull me away from the world I’ve created and drag me back to reality. Twenty-two minutes later, I was applying makeup in the passenger seat of our car and sulking as we pull out of our driveway. “I only need eight more hours a day to stay on track…but I guess I can’t quit my day job.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 107%;">Tony pats my knee. “So quit…<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> after</i> you win the Pulitzer.”</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1WPQS-hDgXqM-bc9oWyAfeJobk_XbNfBnanc3xZZ4_-FzKE0og30sMCzAd73o9pPhBOqUwl4uz98AhtGUPtQKzBhkwIprEIN3qIRevYowv_oql_8cgtsjANnJHGqMmAAohe0bS2GIMOxk/s1600/balance.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="115" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1WPQS-hDgXqM-bc9oWyAfeJobk_XbNfBnanc3xZZ4_-FzKE0og30sMCzAd73o9pPhBOqUwl4uz98AhtGUPtQKzBhkwIprEIN3qIRevYowv_oql_8cgtsjANnJHGqMmAAohe0bS2GIMOxk/s200/balance.jpg" width="200" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 107%;">I never dreamed that writing would take over my life! And no one bothered to tell me that with writing comes editing, marketing and keeping up on social media. Once I began writing seriously nothing else seemed to matter. My weekends of movies and malls became a thing of the past. Date nights with my husband turned into ordering food in…and I may or may not have always joined my husband after the food arrived. I found myself stressing when I left characters in precarious situations as I attended to the business of my life-hoping they’d be <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">okay</i> until I returned.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">For a time, I found the smallest tasks overwhelming and was having trouble managing my time between my writing and the rest of my life which at the time involved a day job. I reached out to a friend who has been writing for at least two decades and asked for his advice. "How do I do this?"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">His answer surprised me. "Sometimes, you'll just need to stop writing, regroup and recuperate. You'll know when to start back up again. Give yourself permission to take some time for yourself!</span><br />
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I listened.
I’m happy to report that now, out of necessity, I've found more balance in my life. When I need to take a break from my writing, I do so and no longer feel guilty. I’ll read <em>someone</em> else’s book, have drinks with friends, or a date night with Tony. He planned an amazing New Year's Eve for the two of us a few weeks ago. I managed to leave thoughts of my current project at home. It wasn’t easy, but I’ve learned the value of eating properly, getting a good night’s sleep and socializing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As a result my writing is stronger and life in general is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">better!</i> </span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">While everyone is different, I've found a few ways to help me decompress, recalibrate and recover a sense of balance when things start to shift.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> <em><strong>Shift into domestic mode</strong></em>- it's amazing that doing something as simple and regimented like vacuuming or preparing a home cooked meal can take your mind away from matters that are cause you to feel unbalanced. The upside is that after you're done you have a cleaner home or a good meal.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> <strong><em>Spend</em></strong> <strong><em>quality time talking to a friend or loved one- </em></strong>shifting focus beyond myself and my own personal universe makes me remember that there is a<em> real</em> <em>world</em> with <em>real people </em>who I care<em> </em>about(and who hopefully care about me) beyond my current project. Meeting in person is great, but so is the ancient practice of talking via telephone. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><strong><em> Revisit your childhood-</em></strong> escape by watching a favorite movie or an episode of a favorite TV show <em>from another time in your life.</em> Your focus may shift to a time when things were simpler. (For me it's the classic Peanuts specials.) </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> <strong><em> Exercise- </em></strong>seriously, exercise (or simply getting up and moving) will positively effect every part of your life. While a visit to the gym or taking a class of some sort are great, sometimes just getting outside and walking can do wonders for your psyche and help to clear some of the clutter from your mind. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><strong><em> Taking breaks from social media- </em></strong>this will help to keep you grounded.<em><strong> </strong></em>Remember, there's a whole world beyond the computer or phone screen . Not posting for the duration of a meal or movie will not cause the world to end. There's a lot to be said for face to face conversation (though I'm afraid that this basic and valuable skill could be going the way of the rotary phone). </span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Never let your writing take over your life. Having balance in your life will help keep you focused in all areas of your life ...and keep you sane! It's okay to STOP and take time for life's necessities...and yourself! Life is far too short not to enjoy it while you can. Your writing will be there when you're ready to return.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0oB7IrfqM-kV4q5_bqOBQYD2fzrAfM6j2eS_NsU4lgSna9JIchnmw9GYv1tBPGaMwdUp4Wjk42odyJcmEuaKrHBs363Ddgbn7V7z3Jfbij_tIdmn1Qvv6GEAo7J7DUbN92hPQZFHlbOOM/s1600/12466142_884664351641549_8126092344618701526_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0oB7IrfqM-kV4q5_bqOBQYD2fzrAfM6j2eS_NsU4lgSna9JIchnmw9GYv1tBPGaMwdUp4Wjk42odyJcmEuaKrHBs363Ddgbn7V7z3Jfbij_tIdmn1Qvv6GEAo7J7DUbN92hPQZFHlbOOM/s200/12466142_884664351641549_8126092344618701526_o.jpg" width="100" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With Tony on New Year's Eve</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 107%;">Today, I finished a rewrite of a scene in the next book of the <em>Fall Again</em> series- <em>California Girl</em>. I'd had trouble with my primary character's motivation which had caused me to lose sleep for the past few nights. But now the scene reads smoothly and I've been able to maintain my main characters integrity. To celebrate, I'm going to clean house and maybe cook a nice meal. You see, I need to decompress and hopefully find that wonderful feeling of balance.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Write well.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8507441479242162503.post-31504219430076366542016-01-02T12:13:00.001-08:002016-01-04T00:32:49.218-08:00Artists, Angst and Tee Shirts.I just naturally assumed that my first post of the year would be filled with enthusiastic words about the year ahead. That was until the other morning. I sat in the terminal of the Greater Cincinnati/Northern Kentucky Airport awaiting my (two-hour delayed) flight back home to Los Angeles. To pass time, I scrolled through my Facebook feed.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMWCvLILH5xhsUI5YuMZYKyTZYNXhQPSJeTd-mkjXp2doSk19Mtl5N2B6HZrgCS1xHmL6t3790MtuSizRu5wf_srjcisGom_ebpHViCPxLCVTsywL3r_OSNd5VyMk92nBQwwGxxc-aIVn3/s1600/untitled+%25286%2529.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="308" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMWCvLILH5xhsUI5YuMZYKyTZYNXhQPSJeTd-mkjXp2doSk19Mtl5N2B6HZrgCS1xHmL6t3790MtuSizRu5wf_srjcisGom_ebpHViCPxLCVTsywL3r_OSNd5VyMk92nBQwwGxxc-aIVn3/s320/untitled+%25286%2529.png" width="320" /></a>A friend had shared a photo of a child's tee shirt from a major retailer, featuring what I felt was a negative message. I'm sure many of you are familiar with this story. After reading several (mostly negative) comments about the shirt, I decided that I would not share or comment. This had been done sufficiently by many others. My feeling was that by the time my flight arrived in Los Angeles, the shirt would have already been pulled from store shelves and removed from the online site. In reality, this occurred before my flight departed the Midwest. The next day I read the retailer's apology.<br />
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But here it is a few days later in a brand new year-and I'm still thinking about the shirt's negative connotations about artists.<br />
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Unlike defined career paths in traditional professions, there are many ways and paths to follow for those pursuing careers in the artistic and creative worlds. Every artist has a different path and subsequently a unique career. Many artists earn degrees from colleges and universities, while others may go directly into their chosen professions. <br />
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I am a working actor living in Los Angeles. I am surrounded by other working artists who are productive members of society. We work to pay our rent, mortgages and bills that are a reality of life in today's world. We have insurance (health/auto/life) and retirement plans. Many of us have families and are taking care of children and or aging parents. Many of us volunteer our time and talents on a regular basis. We pay taxes. We contribute. Basically, we're doing exactly what others in traditional professions are doing. So why aren't actors, dancers writers or musicians given the same respect as, oh...maybe an astronaut or a president?<br />
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I believe that in part, this attitude stems from the majority of the population not knowing exactly what we as artists do for a living. Young gifted aspiring artists are too often discouraged from pursuing careers in the arts. <br />
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The conversations are eerily similar. An excited young artist reveals that they're interested in pursuing a career in the performing or creative arts. "Mom, dad, I'm going to be a <em>dancer</em>!" (feel free to substitute <em>actor, writer, musician, etc.)</em><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRCSVib4fNpDAa-qi1coc3l3wqD48YtheMGO66LnEKvEPe6PmCoJ0eXGz4QXJkw8pLUt_r-X39PYbXpuT5ojd0LywqCABIqGAecf3ln_1JPiQjDEuufcKB0TW9c5j5nwW5jQ4gEJuovSuy/s1600/imagesO7P1TR4L.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRCSVib4fNpDAa-qi1coc3l3wqD48YtheMGO66LnEKvEPe6PmCoJ0eXGz4QXJkw8pLUt_r-X39PYbXpuT5ojd0LywqCABIqGAecf3ln_1JPiQjDEuufcKB0TW9c5j5nwW5jQ4gEJuovSuy/s1600/imagesO7P1TR4L.jpg" /></a>Many parents are horrified as they imagine their child ending up unemployed and homeless. Some parents laugh. "How can you possibly make a living dancing (<em>acting, writing,</em> <em>playing music)</em>? It's alright to <em>dance </em>(<em>act, write, play music, etc.</em>) as a hobby, but you need a<em> real</em> job!" The underlying message is that the young artist will have no family support.<br />
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Many people have simply put aside any creative ambitions to please family and others around them. I know a gifted young writer whose family steered him into law school. This was despite the fact he had won several writing competitions and had been awarded a full scholarship at university with one of the best writing programs in the country. His father was afraid of his son <em>living in the land of make believe,</em> and refused to entertain the idea of his intelligent son working in a creative field. <br />
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<span class="tweet_tweet"><strong><em>“The true sign of intelligence is not knowledge but imagination.” ― </em>Albert Einstein</strong></span><br />
<em></em><br />
Obviously, the father in this example has no idea what types of jobs a writer may have throughout his career. This is, or has been a problem for many of us.<br />
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My own parents couldn't understand my desire to be an actor. I heard them more than once say that they did not want me hanging around <em>those people, (</em>artists and other<em> </em>creative individuals), and persuaded me to pursue broadcast journalism-since this <em>respected</em> field was <em>just like acting</em>. I spent my freshman year at Ohio University in Athens Ohio which had one of the best broadcast journalism departments in the country. While there, I worked at one of the campus radio stations, reading and writing newscasts two to three evenings a week. I did well in my classes and excelled in anything communication oriented. I was miserable. I did however attend every production done by the drama department which reinforced my desire to become an actor. That spring I transferred to the drama department and the next year transferred to Emerson College in Boston as an acting major. I was very lucky in that I was hired by a professional theater company in Chicago immediately after my graduation.<br />
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In Chicago I learned one of the realities of being a working actor...it's hard- just like anything else worth pursuing. After my contract with theater company ended, I had a difficult time finding work. Money was tight and I was extremely depressed. After several weeks, I came home to Ohio feeling defeated, (in part due to a breakup with my first serious boyfriend). That's when my parents made an amazing offer-graduate school! They'd pay in full, but there was a catch. I could study anything other than the performing or creative arts. In their eyes I'd had my little acting adventure. It was time to buckle down and find a<em> real</em> career. In my case, the easy way out would have been to accept their generous offer and enroll in a graduate program. But instead I chose the more difficult path. That afternoon I was on the first Greyhound bus back to Chicago to follow my true passion. While I was terrified, I also feared looking back years later wondering why I had never pursued the career I truly desired.<br />
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What did I do with my acting degree? Over the next three years I did industrial and educational videos, several television commercials and theater. I supplemented my acting income by singing piano bar in the evenings. In Chicago I learned the business of the business. Within a year I became eligible and joined the Screen Actors Guild (SAG). After three years in Chicago I moved to LA where I've continued to work as an actor. The industry continues to change which means I've also had to change by evolving as an artist and performer, just as anyone in any other profession must do to remain relevant. There is no shame involved in working a day job when necessary to make ends meet-just like those outside of the artistic and creative communities. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv7yNdrd_12aIiCWRkFx1UmUYq1Rxx-ymymiaFwUMKsH0KwrwvAbBZt_bXX4IckD9_KpUTf4eEsQL8WKD3-OxTzMvtLLqNbwaqxGCTbqhPZR2XKACLaKCZKG4bAhSm8nf2NcrHmARyzEpe/s1600/d2217908-89c8-4031-b252-81ecab859a8d.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv7yNdrd_12aIiCWRkFx1UmUYq1Rxx-ymymiaFwUMKsH0KwrwvAbBZt_bXX4IckD9_KpUTf4eEsQL8WKD3-OxTzMvtLLqNbwaqxGCTbqhPZR2XKACLaKCZKG4bAhSm8nf2NcrHmARyzEpe/s320/d2217908-89c8-4031-b252-81ecab859a8d.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Another problem for artists and others working in creative professions, is that many outside of the industry can't fathom that working artists are actually paid for what they perceive are frivolous activities and not actual jobs. (My father once asked me if I got paid for working on soap operas and in commercials.) Nothing makes me angrier than when artists are asked to work for free. (Unless this is a donation of time and talent for a charity event where <em>everyone</em> involved will be donating their time and services.) An event planner or business owner will usually promise the artist some sort of exposure, which of course is much better than monetary compensation. This is a disrespectful and exploitive practice that deserves it's own blog post.<br />
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A few years ago I began to explore another form of creativity, writing. I've been writing for years but had never thought about writing professionally until 2012. In 2015, I published two novels. <em>Fall Again</em> is a romantic series set in the world of<em> working</em> actors and other artists. While I've always loved the romance genre, I wanted to provide a glimpse into a world that is often misunderstood and maligned by the general public. My characters are hard working, talented and grounded. Too many times I've read novels that portray actors (musicians, dancers, writers) as lazy or dysfunctional undesirables. Many will find redemption-only after<em> leaving</em> the industry-that is if they don't end up dead beforehand. In <em>Fall Again</em>, I wanted to present a realistic portrayal of working artists. <a href="http://www.fallagainseries.com/">www.fallagainseries.com</a><br />
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The target audience for the <em>Fall Again</em> series is women, so imagine my surprise when I realized that several men, mostly from the creative world were reading my books. They could easily relate to my narrative. One man commented, "I've lived this! I've built a good solid acting career but my family practically disowned me for becoming an actor ."<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_1hsXzocDOqcSbDNMHq8p7KEgCKEtsjEEJaJ9h-Q-X88IGVhfT07-XzljkFkamBSe8Ys65d9H3Hys6ttfyNVbBQwjicIDLFhNwFNwmzCe8LAfph7um6QtKgxAJUgylvcdzpQ3M08UWwBg/s1600/images05JXDC7M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_1hsXzocDOqcSbDNMHq8p7KEgCKEtsjEEJaJ9h-Q-X88IGVhfT07-XzljkFkamBSe8Ys65d9H3Hys6ttfyNVbBQwjicIDLFhNwFNwmzCe8LAfph7um6QtKgxAJUgylvcdzpQ3M08UWwBg/s200/images05JXDC7M.jpg" width="160" /></a><br />
Many professional and performing artists, as well as those in other creative fields, may never receive the respect that is reserved for doctor's and lawyers...and astronauts. But remember, artists possess the power to take and an idea, and turn it into something that can be felt and experienced; turning nothing into something, and often turning nothing into something wonderful. The moment when an idea connects to an audience through the artist is magic. <br />
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One of the best responses to the (anti) artist tee shirt was this tee shirt. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGLhBAdKYN_TvpN9m0HzgQ8nto7fEwF7x3NxeAHvrjl5fwFPJn_JV9pfHKVhwmGqp3ZSz9WDTDvpI97zc7_86d8iccVNHJDZCn-RlG5WV4kp5GEf1gQDg_Zsqa4UJUBmC7E8jhFRp7NhxH/s1600/PO6856181-frontL.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="190" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGLhBAdKYN_TvpN9m0HzgQ8nto7fEwF7x3NxeAHvrjl5fwFPJn_JV9pfHKVhwmGqp3ZSz9WDTDvpI97zc7_86d8iccVNHJDZCn-RlG5WV4kp5GEf1gQDg_Zsqa4UJUBmC7E8jhFRp7NhxH/s200/PO6856181-frontL.png" width="200" /></a></div>
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There has been an improvement on the Arts in Education front as was recently reported by NPR:<br />
School Arts Advocates Cheer New Education Measure <a href="http://www.npr.org/2015/12/16/459936069/arts-education-advocates-cheer-new-education-measure">http://www.npr.org/2015/12/16/459936069/arts-education-advocates-cheer-new-education-measure</a><br />
It looks like the arts will once again be included as part of a well-rounded education. Working artists have known this for centuries. <br />
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It's a New Year. I resolve to remain creative, artistic and ever hopeful that one day my family will understand what I do for a living. <br />
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I'll leave you with the words of sociologist Charles Horton Cooley.<br />
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<strong><em></em></strong><span style="font-size: large;"> <em><strong>Have a happy, healthy, prosperous...and artistic 2016!</strong></em></span><strong> </strong></div>
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<em></em><br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8507441479242162503.post-73213093754994358702015-12-25T01:00:00.000-08:002015-12-25T01:00:13.938-08:00A Holiday Stocking Stuffer<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqxOwdjoEzrFNqwSl6maRJ2HHA-FXfo9-bhG3_E1oZ8uJQomjK9oW_HR0CYKQtN8oXLYLYhVqOU9MQP55yFldP5gLMwc7Xa3UGhEKQqiVEhoSOvl4S-zd58E04nuC1k_0YLo0EfwrBnpam/s1600/635865609928678133.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="307" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqxOwdjoEzrFNqwSl6maRJ2HHA-FXfo9-bhG3_E1oZ8uJQomjK9oW_HR0CYKQtN8oXLYLYhVqOU9MQP55yFldP5gLMwc7Xa3UGhEKQqiVEhoSOvl4S-zd58E04nuC1k_0YLo0EfwrBnpam/s400/635865609928678133.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hollywood </span></b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Boulevard</b></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm</span> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">away from my beloved Hollywood celebrating Christmas with my family in Cincinnati, Ohio. The weather is unusually warm, and last night I witnessed an intense thunderstorm (this is usually a summer occurrence) instead of the snowstorm I was hoping to see.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I've been enjoying spending time with family and friends-many who just can't understand<i> why</i> I live in California. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Just Last night an old friend brought up something that I seem to hear on ever trip to the Midwest. "Why do you people in Hollywood constantly make fun of the rest of the country? In movies and on TV you make us out to be unsophisticated hicks! Except for the New Yorkers who you make loud and obnoxious." (I was surprised he had any sympathy for the good people of New York since this is another city he detests.) </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Instead of going into into a long drawn out explanation involving comedy, writing for theatrical productions and stereotypes, I simply agreed. "You're absolutely right, <i>Sometimes </i>we do have fun with common perceptions of people in other parts of the country. And yes, many times these perceptions are inaccurate but the end result is meant to be enjoyable. <i>And remember, no one makes fun of Hollywood and California better than those of us living in Hollywood and California."</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I then wished him a Merry Christmas and excused myself to the bar for another glass of (California) wine.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I truly meant what I said last night. As evidence, here's a holiday video from the CW's <i>Crazy Ex Girlfriend. </i>It's surprising how many truths can be found in this lighthearted video. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Have a Happy Holiday!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Donna</span>
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/5eHLHXRx_IQ" width="560"></iframe>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8507441479242162503.post-7857184016230882102015-12-20T22:43:00.000-08:002015-12-20T22:49:04.853-08:00A Hollywood Holiday<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;"><em><strong>Seasons greetings from my neighborhood, Hollywood, CA USA. </strong></em></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7Mg2pg94wJTzQqnWlmqzfNFHMVTZw0aNtw1-hUZpueDu23-GMsSGjQTC19d6so9EoUap1LywJ5u3xoCiLiEwTf4yFSraXsweYfT0UJUsVJBlRuP2EvOIz8CcHXhiz_L5yq8bSyuJTBPa9/s1600/10338690_877654442342540_4702300939388483545_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7Mg2pg94wJTzQqnWlmqzfNFHMVTZw0aNtw1-hUZpueDu23-GMsSGjQTC19d6so9EoUap1LywJ5u3xoCiLiEwTf4yFSraXsweYfT0UJUsVJBlRuP2EvOIz8CcHXhiz_L5yq8bSyuJTBPa9/s640/10338690_877654442342540_4702300939388483545_n.jpg" width="330" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;"><em><strong>This town is often misunderstood and filled with contradictions. But in December while it may be warm and dry, it's beautiful and serene as nighttime skies sparkle and holiday magic fills the air. </strong></em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;"><em><strong> Have a safe and Happy Holiday!</strong></em></span></div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8507441479242162503.post-40876090766330781762015-12-13T22:47:00.001-08:002015-12-13T22:47:37.140-08:00Strangers on a Plane: An Unexpected Connection<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilrI0Xm_CUx0S1YX1DGO8zKyl55LWXzYN1dQj6UhGjlnOLbmYuqMiU69wLeGGK_I_iGn_5WCl4tjRE79idF0zXTSJgZQQPiuisibYjtSsPAifzUAkTDPMimJbdqRAjaONuPgNY59nibOb9/s1600/1970s%252520aircraft%252520interior.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="217" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilrI0Xm_CUx0S1YX1DGO8zKyl55LWXzYN1dQj6UhGjlnOLbmYuqMiU69wLeGGK_I_iGn_5WCl4tjRE79idF0zXTSJgZQQPiuisibYjtSsPAifzUAkTDPMimJbdqRAjaONuPgNY59nibOb9/s400/1970s%252520aircraft%252520interior.jpg" width="400" /></a>I hate to fly. I always have and probably always will. I've begrudgingly come to the realization that flying is a reality of life in the twenty-first century. Despite my fears and trepidations, I've accepted the fact that I'll be flying several times a year, either to visit my family in the Midwest, on business or on a rare getaway with my husband. My anxiousness begins as soon as I book a flight and last through landing-at the end of the return leg of my trip.<br />
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Do I have any <em>valid</em> reasons to hate flying beyond the usual hassles that travelers encounter these days? Maybe. I was once on a flight that had to make an emergency landing after a drunk passenger claimed there was a bomb on the plane. This was pre 9/11 and the passenger was not taken seriously, but protocol was followed. My fellow passengers and I applauded the U. S. Airways crew for handling this situation quickly and discreetly, before disclosing all the details to passengers after the incident over. I think we all had a pretty good idea of what was happening when federal authorities surrounded the plane as soon as we landed with guns and dogs at the ready. The inebriated passenger (who would not have cleared the TSA screening process today) was dragged down the center aisle and off the plane. It was reminiscent of a scene from an Airport movie. In this post 9/11 age, I imagine that several passengers on this interrupted flight would have severely hurt this guy long before we landed-primarily for the flight delay and unplanned detour to Albuquerque.<br />
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I know that several passengers are unnerved by the TSA. I for one have no problems with security screenings, and I do have a valid reason to be unnerved. I flew on the very first day that the TSA as we know it launched operations in American airports. There was a huge learning curve for the flying public and TSA personnel. I'd filmed a commercial in the San Francisco Bay area and was returning to Los Angeles. The new protocol stated that passengers who had not purchased their own tickets would undergo a more thorough screening. Since the production company I worked for paid for my ticket, I went through a more intense screening, which I did not see as a problem or inconvenience. My carryon was opened and carefully searched by a petite female TSA officer. She pulled out a plastic bag that I'd placed at the bottom corner of my small roll away bag, opened it and reached in to examine the contents. She eyed me suspiciously. "What's this?" <br />
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I wasn't fazed. "A bathing suit."<br />
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"Why is it wet?" She was suddenly very serious as the smell of chlorine wafted from the bag.<br />
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I guess the woman was unfamiliar with the concept of wearing a bathing suit while swimming, but I remained courteous as I answered her question. "I wore this earlier today while swimming...in a swimming pool." <br />
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She replaced the bathing suit, completed the search of my bag and picked up a wand that she waved over my body. A machine beeped when the wand crossed over my torso which startled her. She now moved the wand closer to my chest which now sustained the machine's beep. "Why is there metal on this part of your body?"<br />
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I remained calm. "I'm wearing an <em>underwire</em> bra."<br />
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This woman was taking no chances. She reached out and grabbed both of my breasts in her ungloved hands, squeezing until she felt the questionable underwire through my clothing. While I was surprised by this intrusive action, I managed to maintain my composure. Thankfully this was the end of the search. <br />
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I later spoke to a friend who was a purser for a major airline. He told me that the new TSA guidelines for physical searches of this sort were to be conducted<em> only</em> while the officer is wearing gloves, and only with the back of the hands. Many women, including Diana Ross and Nicole Richie have similar stories during the early days of the TSA. Over the next few years as I dressed for future flights, I took special care not to wear any undergarments that would make a physical search necessary.<br />
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And then living in Los Angeles, I am often faced with the monster of an airport known as LAX, an airport that seems to be constantly under construction these days. But LAX is a subject for another post, or even a series of posts. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrltoPSOm0Y9zsVe5g5liZZh94HsO9hLdYiED2DHf6IsgTo39EgkOY5uwDN5yaOiNK05wolX8jFc6iypRHPxLQUV03nXXsmoRmAHQ4ydH7daZCSw17KOoxtk1Urt3C-1Zm2Ws3MFBJ50Oe/s1600/delta-uniforms-1970-1973-coats-592015-3122_panoramic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="171" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrltoPSOm0Y9zsVe5g5liZZh94HsO9hLdYiED2DHf6IsgTo39EgkOY5uwDN5yaOiNK05wolX8jFc6iypRHPxLQUV03nXXsmoRmAHQ4ydH7daZCSw17KOoxtk1Urt3C-1Zm2Ws3MFBJ50Oe/s320/delta-uniforms-1970-1973-coats-592015-3122_panoramic.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
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So many people are frustrated by the need to separate their liquids or having to remove their shoes and outerwear before the scrutiny of a body scan. Many travelers just can't understand the concept of arriving at the airport two hours early to clear TSA screening and or to deal with unforeseen circumstances that are common to travelers. And there are those who are like me-who just hate leaving the ground. Long gone are the glory glamorous days of flying.<br />
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But then it doesn't all have to be bad . I'd like to share a personal experience- a positive experience that took place on a recent flight.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_rqhoCr80fE0L3OyBBu2SFg46bXXBRb8hQcaH7tVggl5qV9udyy2WIw7tBrTQAt_JgIkJ7STAxawUfDy2uuz_ak9ayG7O3AkFGoSVX0vxbCw2AWzpj-_x3HKuimBS3Bp6wxSdOYr2H_ef/s1600/7b3c783e7977e322295a5677ba32e320.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_rqhoCr80fE0L3OyBBu2SFg46bXXBRb8hQcaH7tVggl5qV9udyy2WIw7tBrTQAt_JgIkJ7STAxawUfDy2uuz_ak9ayG7O3AkFGoSVX0vxbCw2AWzpj-_x3HKuimBS3Bp6wxSdOYr2H_ef/s320/7b3c783e7977e322295a5677ba32e320.jpg" width="252" /></a>I was returning to Los Angeles from the Midwest. I was booked on a direct flight from CVG (Greater Cincinnati/ Northern Kentucky Airport) to LAX. This morning flight was to last four and a half hours, which for me was four and a half hours too long. <br />
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While I had been assigned a coveted aisle seat, I requested and was reassigned to a window seat at the gate with an apology that the only window seat available was 31F at the rear of the plane. I didn't care since the rear of the plane arrives at its destination at the same time as the front of the plane. I need a window. Call me crazy but I <em>need </em>to be able to see the ground when I fly.<br />
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This flight is usually full, but to my surprise, the center seat of this row was empty as the plane's doors were being prepared for departure. I smiled at the woman in 31D, the aisle seat. "I don't believe it! I guess we'll both have some extra room on this flight." <br />
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She returned my smile. "Oh. Is it unusual to have a vacant seat like this?"<br />
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"On this particular flight, yes. I'd compare having an empty center seat to winning $25 in the lottery. Hardly life changing, but the win still feels good."<br />
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This made her laugh.<br />
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I'd brought work to do on this flight. I had a proof of my new book that needed to be read and revised as my October deadline loomed closer. After takeoff, I busily got to work with my pencil and highlighter. But then again, I hate to fly. While the weather was perfect and the skies were clear and turbulence free, I was having a difficult time concentrating. After two very long hours, I closed the book, frustrated that I hadn't made more progress-and was going to be in the air for at least two more hours.<br />
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That's when the woman on the aisle made a comment. "You must fly often. You're so relaxed, calm... and organized." She'd noticed that I'd arranged my space strategically by placing a few items including my water bottle and travel blanket close by while being cognizant of not using more than one half of the empty seat between us. Her warm smile was genuine.<br />
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For the first time during the flight, I really took notice of this woman. She was slim, soft spoken and had expressive blue eyes. I guessed she was in her seventies. "This has been a smooth flight. Do you fly often?"<br />
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"I seem to be flying more now. But to be honest, it's not something I'm comfortable doing. I wish could relax like you. You seemed to be into your book. Is must be good."<br />
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I wanted to laugh at her thinking I was relaxed, but she'd asked me about my book-and wondered if it was good. I felt odd answering. "Well...<em>I</em> think so."<br />
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She timidly continued. "I noticed you were taking notes as you read. My father used to take notes while he read. I still have several of his books, simply because they have his handwritten notes in the margins. To me it's a way to keep his memory and thoughts alive-though I have no idea why he took notes."<br />
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I found her remark interesting, but a rather personal detail to share with a stranger. I explained the reason for my own note taking. "I'm taking notes because this is my own book. I'm a writer. I'm in the editing process of my new novel and am making revisions on this early copy...or proof." I showed her the book's back cover so she could see my photograph.<br />
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"Oh my! May I?" She took the book and read the back cover before turning it over and examining the front cover. "Your cover is mysterious...and beautiful! And the plot sounds interesting. I'd like to read your novel it once it's published. How would I do that?"<br />
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I handed her a business card with the proper information that she carefully tucked into an outside pocket of her handbag.<br />
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The next thing I knew, I was engaged in a sincere conversation with a total stranger. We discussed a variety of subjects, like the changes in the area where she was living and where I had grown up. We discussed local politics and places that didn't exist anymore, and why this seemed to sadden both of us.<br />
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But as we continued to talk, our conversation became more personal. She was not in her seventies but in her eighties. She was travelling to Seattle to visit her brother who was recently diagnosed with cancer. She told me about her almost sixty year marriage to her high school sweetheart, and how difficult it was to lose him. But she also told me how she had continued on with her life. I found myself telling her about losses in my own life while she assured me that life continues. She urged me to always remain positive no matter what life brings your way. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpmP-69T8u9xuL3cQOBrsUnHbIQbevG7-Zz3fbybcEkMJz1lM_5sK2oDj3065x3diQmrSUm43Tv3GiH1f_UCsxd3PVPKea_LxHctWBBo_YAgOLYJd7ufS4iTe_KfEpLXojhHeqWNMI_qMi/s1600/untitled+%25283%2529.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpmP-69T8u9xuL3cQOBrsUnHbIQbevG7-Zz3fbybcEkMJz1lM_5sK2oDj3065x3diQmrSUm43Tv3GiH1f_UCsxd3PVPKea_LxHctWBBo_YAgOLYJd7ufS4iTe_KfEpLXojhHeqWNMI_qMi/s320/untitled+%25283%2529.png" width="238" /></a>Our conversation flowed easily and organically. It was never uncomfortable or forced. Before I knew it we were beginning our descent into Los Angeles. Time had somehow passed very quickly. <br />
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"Is LAX an easy airport to maneuver? I have almost an hour before my next flight, but I still worry."<br />
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I wasn't going to tell her that LAX could be intimidating for even the most seasoned passengers, or that Delta Airlines occupied two terminals. I prayed her connecting flight was in the same terminal where we would soon be deplaning. In any event, I would be making sure she got to her connecting flight to Seattle.<br />
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Several minutes later we were entering terminal 5 at LAX. I asked the waiting Delta agent where this <em>nice lady</em> would be catching her connecting flight. Of course, she would need to get to terminal 6 which would involve an escalator ride to a lower level and a shuttle ride to the next terminal. I walked her to the escalator. "I could wait for the shuttle with you if you like." For some reason I was feeling protective of my fellow passenger as she looked at the terminal sprawling out beyond her.<br />
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"Please don't worry about me dear. I'll be fine. Thank you for your kindness."<br />
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I was slightly embarrassed as I asked, "What's your name?" I hadn't asked before this moment.<br />
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Again, her smile was warm. "I'm Charlotte."<br />
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"It was lovely meeting you, Charlotte. Have a safe trip."<br />
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She reached out and gave me an unexpected hug. "Thank you, Donna." She stepped back slightly. "And I will be reading your book!"<br />
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I know that in this day and age, striking up a conversation with a complete stranger can be awkward and intimidating. To be honest, my conversation with Charlotte was a fluke. I've never been one to strike up conversations with strangers. I've often found myself boarding a plane and praying that the person next to me isn't a talker. I usually plop down in my window seat and hurriedly pop in ear buds and open a magazine or my kindle which I hope sends a clear <em>do not disturb</em> message.<br />
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These seemingly awkward encounters don't have to be annoying, though I'm sure most of us have horror stories about the unpleasant person seated next to us on a plane. On the contrary, these chance meetings might be pleasant. Since my flight with Charlotte, I wonder how many pleasant encounters I may have missed.<br />
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I recently told a friend about meeting Charlotte. My friend is an actor/comedian with several impressive credits. Luckily he's among the ranks of actors who have a long resume but is seldom recognized in public. He told me a story about a flight he'd had two years ago. He boarded the flight in a bad mood and found himself praying that no one would be seated next to him. He just knew he wouldn't be good company. Of course, another person soon took the seat next to him and began chatting. At first my friend responded to be polite as he found himself looking for a book to use as a means of stopping the conversation. But the conversation never stopped. By the end of the flight my friend and this complete stranger closed a business deal where my friend would be emceeing and performing comedy for a huge corporate event in Miami. This chance meeting led to additional performing opportunities for my friend, opportunities that may have never happened had he<em> not</em> spoken to his fellow passenger.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimJfb9G4rhI1POpwgWs_Dwjy2_H158Z6rhhgT-DB0DFF60ACv3sNSBIucGIk4HHPdji6BsgNzwnEU2uZMeLGYhV2ZIfBWP12MxdgT1RRA85VOJEiQOIs_Kl3GChmCxHOX8Fuw5tueM-Q-x/s1600/images+%25284%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimJfb9G4rhI1POpwgWs_Dwjy2_H158Z6rhhgT-DB0DFF60ACv3sNSBIucGIk4HHPdji6BsgNzwnEU2uZMeLGYhV2ZIfBWP12MxdgT1RRA85VOJEiQOIs_Kl3GChmCxHOX8Fuw5tueM-Q-x/s320/images+%25284%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Many of us will be travelling this holiday. As temping as it may be, don't shut yourself off completely. Consider keeping yourself open to the possibility of connecting to a stranger. As artists, our raw materials are often the people and stories that we'll infuse into our projects as we reflect the human condition. I firmly believe that the more people we encounter, the more we'll understand our own corner of the world. With more interpersonal interactions, we have more experiences to pull from as we create art, and as a result have projects that are deeper and richer in their portrayal of humanity. <br />
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I have a personal message for Charlotte from Northern Kentucky who was on a Delta flight to Los Angeles before connecting to her flight to the Northwest last September.<br />
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<em>It was an honor and pleasure meeting you. Thank you for reminding me that the art of conversation is still alive and well, and that a chance conversation , even when its shared between two strangers, </em><em>can be a positive experience.</em><em> I enjoyed sharing the flight (and the empty seat) with you . I hope life is treating you well. </em><br />
<em></em><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHDj65epxEBxBSzhk71X4PEPqKH6nlypnkU2drgtR9NhPz9aIR2kxuD3rXNf9RphGYimHBAabKWXnc5pVBmA11QqkcxkzDEUunp3bPesL7bMxGRx7JRVNftfjfGhE7wWGudumszE3dTWfj/s1600/images+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHDj65epxEBxBSzhk71X4PEPqKH6nlypnkU2drgtR9NhPz9aIR2kxuD3rXNf9RphGYimHBAabKWXnc5pVBmA11QqkcxkzDEUunp3bPesL7bMxGRx7JRVNftfjfGhE7wWGudumszE3dTWfj/s200/images+%25282%2529.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<em>Donna (the author in 31F)</em><br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8507441479242162503.post-83033523206515766772015-12-06T22:46:00.000-08:002015-12-06T22:46:42.948-08:00 Living in the City of Angels: Observations from a Midwestern Transplant<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipVFOPUYBW-jfyRqMQs03bv-VflnhEPK5CotHCKEQ6XHp5JsY5qiqOJLBO8-WsTUK8ZaUfpLF8Tv1yMnb4U1Hrg8_PovjnsYBADrAzSkgSI0sUKNwsNn0C8Sm8Rh2Ub5uM8iDKrvR_AZ1S/s1600/12321462_871909446250373_1454238440091937505_n+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipVFOPUYBW-jfyRqMQs03bv-VflnhEPK5CotHCKEQ6XHp5JsY5qiqOJLBO8-WsTUK8ZaUfpLF8Tv1yMnb4U1Hrg8_PovjnsYBADrAzSkgSI0sUKNwsNn0C8Sm8Rh2Ub5uM8iDKrvR_AZ1S/s640/12321462_871909446250373_1454238440091937505_n+%25282%2529.jpg" width="360" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At home in Hollywood on a typical autumn day</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;">I'd always dreamed of moving to New York City one day. While I’d wanted to attend college there, my parents were terrified by the idea of me being in New York alone. However they told me that they felt there would be too many distractions in New York. In retrospect, they were probably right.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I attended Emerson College in Boston, MA. As my graduation date approached, I was making a plan that would get me to New York to begin my acting career. Instead, fate intervened in the form of a contract with a Chicago theatre company. I stayed in Chicago for three years where I joined the actors unions, did theatre, a few film and television projects, several industrial films and television commercials. In Chicago, I concentrated on learning the <em>business of the business</em>-in preparation for my move to New York.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">
But again, fate intervened. As I was starting to do my preliminary New York relocation research, an opportunity in Los Angeles dropped in my lap. I’d never thought about Los Angeles. I knew nothing about LA and certainly never thought of living or working on the west coast.
But for some reason, I booked a flight with the intention of staying for a few weeks. Chicago was having a bad winter and I wanted a break from the cold and the snow.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">
Long story short, I never returned to Chicago.
I can’t explain what happened, but upon my arrival at LAX, I felt like I’d come home. I eventually settled in, had some wonderful professional opportunities, and three years after moving west, I met the man who would become my husband.</span><br />
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I was born in Ohio, went to school in New England, and spent three years in Chicago. I’ve travelled quite a bit and cannot imagine living anywhere else other than here in the City of Angels, Los Angeles.
I often find myself feeling protective of my adopted city which is often maligned by people living in other parts of the country. Their assumptions are often based on broad stereotypes seen in films and on television. If anything, we know how to make fun of ourselves. Los Angeles is really just like any other American city, full of neighborhoods, families and hard working people. LA just happens to be the entertainment capitol of the world ,which gives the city it's unique mystic.</span><br />
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Here are a few things I've learned about living in the City of Angels, Los Angeles, CA.
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10. One day, you realize that you speak and understand Spanish though you’ve had no formal training. Es bueno.</span><br />
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9. Usually, earthquakes are nothing more than annoying occurrences. This is especially true if the ground starts shaking before your alarm goes off which causes you to lose those last few minutes of precious sleep.</span><br />
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8. You can network anywhere; at corporate events, at Starbucks, at your kid’s soccer game, and at weddings and funerals. It’s not strange or rude. In fact, I believe it’s expected.
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7. Visitors from other parts of the country are surprised at how friendly everybody is here.</span><br />
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6. Everybody has an entertainment connection. My mother in-laws surgeon was a consultant on the NBC show ER. He was also George Clooney’s surgical hand double. (And yes, his hands were gorgeous!)</span><br />
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5. You do not have to go to the trendy boutique or hot new restaurants to see celebrities. Many do their own grocery shopping, go to the neighbourhood coffee place, or get their nails done at the same salon you do. Most of us locals are not fazed by these people (because they’re only people). They just happen to work in front of the camera.
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4. The camera really does add ten pounds…and I’m speaking from experience.
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3. You can find anything at virtually any time in this town. (Vegan soul food, anyone?) I once went to Home Depot at 3AM…because I could. My husband was out of town. I couldn’t sleep, and Home Depot was open 24/7. I easily found someone to mix my paint and was back home within an hour. I was able to start my weekend project of painting my bathroom earlier than expected.
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2. Yes. The traffic is bad. Horrible even. But you learn to live with it. I recently returned from San Francisco via LAX. My trip from the airport to my home in Hollywood was twice as long as my flight. But there’s a trade-off…</span><br />
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1. THE WEATHER IS FANTASTIC! It’s true. However, we’re spoiled. If it’s not sunny, seventy-five degrees with a mild breeze coming off the ocean, we complain. Right now it’s currently sixty-eight degrees, and I’m freezing.</span><br />
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If you ever have the chance to visit LA, be careful. You too might be seduced by this town and never want to leave. I’m speaking from experience. Several years ago I began a love affair with the city I am proud to come home. I love LA!</span>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8507441479242162503.post-76466815932821693772015-11-29T22:23:00.000-08:002015-11-29T23:33:34.543-08:00A Post NaNoWriMo Experience<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9zmiqjw3obvW5KTB5kk3Bw190xkJBOUW2muFnqLQJe7eHWteLfWgQY_E4RW-8v8c8temVArmudgMNNMwUbKBH-N0lXuGqvjVu25wo0wlAaj54Sf65qkodtxrL9alUwldU9hdQwbsY0z7c/s1600/11823895_811360022305316_319337903_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9zmiqjw3obvW5KTB5kk3Bw190xkJBOUW2muFnqLQJe7eHWteLfWgQY_E4RW-8v8c8temVArmudgMNNMwUbKBH-N0lXuGqvjVu25wo0wlAaj54Sf65qkodtxrL9alUwldU9hdQwbsY0z7c/s320/11823895_811360022305316_319337903_n.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">For those of you who’ve successfully completed the NaNoWriMo challenge, congratulations! To those of you who participated but may have fallen short of your goal, I also send good wishes. The challenge is not easy, especially when you’re standing at the base of a 50,000 word mountain. I believe that the mere act of starting this challenge is a major accomplishment.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">But remember, life continues after November's novel writing challenge. I’d like to share a few of my own experiences, post NaNoWriMo.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">My project, Fall Again, began as an idea for a short story that I never found time to write. Timing is everything. In mid- October of 2012,I realized the NaNoWriMo challenge was starting in a few weeks. I had been thinking about my story idea for so long that I feared it had grown well beyond a short story format. Perhaps it could become a novel. The truth was that I didn’t know if I had 50,000 words in me.
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<span style="font-size: large;">Fall Again was to be a romantic novel set against the backdrop of working actors. The story takes place in New York City, Los Angeles and points in between over two decades.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">On November 1, 2012, I actually remembered to start writing and continued writing every day. I reached my 50,000 word goal on November 20, while the actual novel was completed ten days later on November 30, coming in at just over 80,000 words.
I was very happy and excited as I printed (and framed) my certificate. I enjoyed the well wishes of friends and family for the first few days of December while languishing in my good feelings of accomplishment. Then, I put the manuscript away until after the holidays.
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Several weeks later I reread my manuscript. Time away from my project had changed it somehow. What had been pretty good in November was now barely mediocre in January. I realized I didn't have a novel. What I had was a passable first draft. A friend who has been writing professionally consoled me as he encouraged me to keep writing. “You know what Ernest Hemingway said, don’t you? The first draft of anything is shit.”
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">By mid-January I was now back in writing mode, only now with a much deeper understanding of my characters and story. I realized that while I’d written an okay beginning and end of my novel, I had somehow ignored the middle. My month long separation from my manuscript helped me to see the manuscript more clearly and with critical eyes that did not exist during November where I wrote quickly. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Now I was writing at my own pace as I developed my main characters and added a few more that hadn’t made themselves present a few months earlier. I changed a few key plot points which led to new pivotal scenes.
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Months later, and after forcing myself to stop writing, I gave my manuscript to a mentor to read for an honest critique. Three weeks later we met for lunch so we could discuss the manuscript. He found it amusing that I was rather anxious about his critique which he didn’t begin until we’d placed our food order. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">He began slowly. “Well, I don’t think you have a novel.”
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<span style="font-size: large;">I let out a deep disappointed sigh as I sank against the back of the booth.
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<span style="font-size: large;">But he hadn’t noticed and continued. “I think you have at least three, or maybe even four novels here. Have you ever thought of turning this into a series?”</span><br />
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I barely had time to process this information as he asked me another rather surprising question. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">“And are you thinking about self-publishing, or trying to go with the more traditional route?”
Was he joking? I’d never considered actually publishing my novel. But then I’d also spent close to a year working on a story that I believed in with characters who I liked and respected. Maybe their story needed to get into the hands of readers. The more I considered this idea, the more I liked the idea- the frightening idea of people reading my story.
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<span style="font-size: large;">I returned to my desk and turned my (very long) stand-alone novel into a four-part contemporary romantic series. There were more weeks of solid writing, then revisions, and then editing. I went through angst and frustration as I formatted the first novel to a Create Space template. Pagination almost drove me insane.
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<span style="font-size: large;">My mood improved greatly when I received my first proof. The project that had begun almost three years before as an idea for a short story, was now a fully realized novel. My novel which I was now holding in my hands.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ2gczwxHzemvQBrPQh5UA6f-B7icCIExdwGBDJJhxzKjvPGyoBYL4lQemJ706YEvEqfJdhnHC0_GHipiZCLUjeTgfopO6Uj4YFd1LcV5m93FMUMN-7dJJksjItCm1qgdK8w_q3CqJDvJ2/s1600/FALL-AGAIN-Beginnings-8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ2gczwxHzemvQBrPQh5UA6f-B7icCIExdwGBDJJhxzKjvPGyoBYL4lQemJ706YEvEqfJdhnHC0_GHipiZCLUjeTgfopO6Uj4YFd1LcV5m93FMUMN-7dJJksjItCm1qgdK8w_q3CqJDvJ2/s320/FALL-AGAIN-Beginnings-8.jpg" width="211" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">After a final edit and a few final revisions, I came to the conclusion that the first part of the Fall Again series, Beginnings, was complete. I honestly didn’t want to let go of the project that had become another full time job, and a rather large part of my life. But on May 28, 2015 at 1:30 in the afternoon, I clicked a box on my laptop’s screen- the box that read, publish.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-8JHnS3XjTyMQjlFIQjJQRciQBakg_baZXTeKBchaXELrFANKswsIyHx6GW1BfvJ3kZ346sWjlnjVdwjaHrq_jRiNNsyV9GVGbqnA5AJSIS5dEAu8wDyUPFEodlMp6FcUqjyJ_ox7PPJU/s1600/FALL-AGAIN-Lost-Boy-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-8JHnS3XjTyMQjlFIQjJQRciQBakg_baZXTeKBchaXELrFANKswsIyHx6GW1BfvJ3kZ346sWjlnjVdwjaHrq_jRiNNsyV9GVGbqnA5AJSIS5dEAu8wDyUPFEodlMp6FcUqjyJ_ox7PPJU/s320/FALL-AGAIN-Lost-Boy-1.jpg" width="211" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">On November 13, I published the second installment of the series, Fall Again: Lost Boy. In 2016 I plan to release the last two books in the series, Fall Again: California Girl and Fall Again: Reunion.
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<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">This unexpected journey has been rewarding on many levels. I have become a better writer. I’ve met many people I never would have encountered had it not been for the Fall Again Project. I’ve discovered that I truly love writing and plan to continue.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I’m still struggling as I try to find the proper balance between writing and the rest of my life. Maybe one day I’ll solve the Rubik’s cube that is marketing and promotion. Many of the technical elements necessary to writing and self-publishing still leave me frustrated, but I’m leaning, and it’s getting easier.
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">This was my journey. Back in 2012 when I began the NanoWrimo challenge (praying that I had 50,000 words in me), I never imagined myself as a publishing anything. I simply had a story that I wanted to tell- a story that I later hoped people would enjoy. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">This summer I received this message on the Fall Again Facebook page.
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<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"I really enjoyed Fall Again: Beginnings When will the sequel be released and how many sequels will there be?"
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<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I couldn't have been happier.
So again, congrats! You deserve it. The challenge has come to an end, but this doesn’t mean that your writing has to stop. Why don’t you see where your writing can take you? Everyone’s experiences, post NaNowrimo as in life, will be different. I seldom give advice, but in this case I’ll make an exception. Enjoy the ride!
Best wishes.
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<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Donna</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8507441479242162503.post-67174007039579579312015-11-27T15:59:00.003-08:002015-11-29T22:23:15.546-08:00Night Visitor<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="http://media.giphy.com/media/ZOTbUNcYAupyg/giphy.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="http://media.giphy.com/media/ZOTbUNcYAupyg/giphy.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://media.giphy.com/media/ZOTbUNcYAupyg/giphy.gif" height="224" width="320" /></a><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;"><em>What happens when you don't listen to your characters?</em></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;"><em>They keep you up at night.</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;"><em><o:p></o:p></em></span> </div>
<em>
</em><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The sexy voice wakes me. “Could we talk for a few
minutes?”</span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I roll over feigning sleep but that doesn’t stop him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Please… I only need a few minutes. I promise I’ll let
you come back to bed-and pretend to sleep. Get your notebook and meet me in
your office. And please, try not to wake your husband!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">It was Marc with his irresistible charm, offbeat sense
of humor and incredibly sexy accent. I know Marc well…intimately in fact; he’s my
primary male character in my romantic series, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Fall Again</i>. He knows I’m making final edits in the first novel <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Beginnings</i> and feels it necessary to
give me his input and refuses to leave. The digital clock display shines 2:33AM.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Thankfully, Marc hasn’t asked me to bring the laptop
which means I might get back to bed at a reasonable hour. The last time he
insisted I bring the laptop, I didn’t crawl back into bed until sunrise.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">While Marc <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">does
not</i> exist in the real world, he’s very real in my imagination, just like
all of my other characters. In the past few weeks several have come to me with
concerns; Gary made me aware of a discrepancy in my timeline. Lauren had a
problem with her wardrobe in one scene, fearing that I made her look desperate.
But at least they had the courtesy to make me aware of these issues during
reasonable hours. Only Marc sees the need to wake me in the early morning hours.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I tighten my robe, settle in at my desk and open my
notebook as I wait for Marc to explain the reason for his unexpected early
morning appearance.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“You need to revisit the opening scene on Sunset Boulevard.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve written
and rewritten that scene more times than I can count! I want to slam my
notebook shut, but I don’t. Truth be told, I’ve never been completely happy
with this pivotal scene.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Marc sees that
he has my complete attention, and eloquently presents his case.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">While pleased with my last revision, he feels the
scene can be stronger and wants me to dig deeper <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">emotionally.</i> He asks me to<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i>think
about the scene and consider all the elements. He reminds me that not only has there
been a long passage of time in addition to shock and surprise, but there’s also
a great deal of pain. “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Pain.</i> You’re
ignoring the pain that Lauren and I have been living with for years!” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">And in the wee hours of the morning, Marc makes sense
and I find myself making notes that will be incorporated into my manuscript
during my next writing sessions when I’m fully awake. Marc as usual, is right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Marc’s sexy voice makes me smile. “Keep me honest and
I’ll let you sleep. I promise! Goodnight.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">And he’s gone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br />
I close my notebook and make my way back down the dark hallway to bed for what
I hope will be a few hours of restful sleep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I suppose I shouldn’t expect anything less from any of
my characters. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve endowed every one of
them with integrity. I will respect and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">listen
</i>to them no matter the time, because I know they’re usually right. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
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