Jellystone (National Park) on the Yogi Bear show was significant for me as a child watching this fun cartoon.  I loved animals.  I loved being outdoors.  I loved watching the sky in all its moods and colors.  I imagined that the wind in the trees was actually the trees coming alive for a few moments to whisper to one another.

My mother thought I might become a forest ranger.  Watching Yogi Bear I learned that there was such a thing as a national park and eventually what forest rangers do.  When I wasn't at a camp during the summer, I would go on hikes and commune with nature, just watching everything that moved and imagined what didn't move, well, what would it be like if it could be animated?  I felt such a bond with nature.  I still do.

I didn't go on to become a forest ranger but the subsequent travels to national parks near and far for the next five decades further deepened my love for natural . . and animals.  All the images emblazoned in my memory became retreats for me and I learned how to use those images for creating that happy place we all need but can't physically get to.  A special treat for me is watching clouds and marveling at the unique white, puffy formations.  I could share this interest with others and many a time I would go out for the day in the car with my friend John, when visiting Canada, and drive around in "God's country" just to look at the various cloud formations as they moved slowly across the sky.

I have developed the ability to transport myself into my favorite camping environment, sitting by the fire after dusk, watching the fire, listening to the frogs and critters sing and gossip, and listen for the water lapping on the shore nearby.  I'm skilled enough to bring that environment to life in my mind's eye and even smell the campfire.     There is a magic for me in being "in" nature even in this artificial way.  I don't live in nature as the animals and flora do, of course.  It's an experience I can connect and disconnect from at will.

The wonder of it never ceases.  I have had animals and reptiles as pets all of my life.  I am still in awe when I interact with them on any level - just being able to interact with them - still amazes me.  It intrigues me to see my dog and cats interact with each other in friendly ways, even playing with each other as usually different species don't play with each other.  For my cats or dog to lean on me or come to me to be petted it seems like a great meeting of beings, so different yet compatible.  The times I have hand-fed a reptile is another set of cherished experiences.  The interactions with other species give me the same kind of peace and tranquility, and sense of wonder, as sitting by that campfire or sleeping out in a tent listening to nature's own carry on their nightly doings.

My happy place.

Fading of the Cries and new inspiration

I watched the fantasy flick "Fading of the Cries" last night, courtesy of Netflix, and I was quite taken with it.  In fact, I watched it twice.  My old favorite Brad Dourif did not disappoint in his grand bizarreness.  The script and directing choices held my interest both times I viewed the film.  It inspired some thoughts in the "what if" category and I busily made notes for a future writing endeavor.  I have stopped the habit of getting a fresh batch of ideas for another writing project I have sketched out and stopping what I am doing.  I have found if I record ideas by voice or scribbling the ideas still move me down the road when I re-visit the burst of thoughts.

My renewed determination in finishing scripts reminds of the days back in the late 1970s and very early 1980s when I would spend two and three hours a night down in my basement "office" typing away.  I got so much done then because of that focus.  I got somewhere with the writing and anytime I have focused like that on anything, I have gotten somewhere with it - at least where I wanted to go with the material in terms of presenting it publicly.  I have gotten much better at tuning out or redirecting potential distractions.

I have also noticed my focus is significantly improved in the evenings when I do not have caffeine or sugary items after 11 a.m.  The difference is quite amazing actually.

The one act play is now in its second draft.  I'm beyond thrilled with it.

As the mind churns

I finished Garry O'Connor's excellent biography on playwright Sean O'Casey last night.  I am in the middle of several writing projects and the one that has me the most absorbed is the one-act play.  I don't like to share the plots of my work online, so I don't.  I can share that this one-act play will be what is termed a tragde-comedy.  I picked up my love and understanding of tragic-comedy duality through my early love of Irish plays and stories.  O'Casey was a world-class brat, no question about it, but he was a most determined, and brilliant brat.      For all the contempt he held against others and entire institutions, he managed to make a happy home life for himself and inspire fierce loyalty in spite of himself.

This one-act play that I am writing will mark the third time I am submitting a play for a professional production.  My past plays were commissioned by various type of organizations, except for "Tender Moments With My Cat," for a short play competition back in 1990.  It got a professional production, along with the other contest winners, in New York.  I was pleased with it.  I then wrote another one-act play called "Boomerang" which got produced as well by the same theater.  I wish I knew where that script is now.  I can't find it.  One thing I prefer to do, as opposed to Mr. O'Casey, is not attend rehearsals or productions of my work.  That's how it has been in the past.  I don't know if I will feel any differently if any of my new crop of plays gets a production. Once I've written the thing, it's a matter of interpretation and I can't control that once the play is out of my hands.  I don't dwell on what I cannot control.  I don't fight with people who may criticize my work (or me).  There isn't much you can do to alter interpretations or opinions except to keep moving forward with your own vision and truth.  Your actions will either educate or be ignored.  I wondered while reading the O'Casey biography how much of the energy he spent writing lengthy counter-criticisms of his work and responding to real and perceived slights could have been spent writing more (and better) plays.

Conserving emotional and  psychic energy is no small matter.  It is too easy to get distracted and hung up on what is, in the ultimate scheme of things, not very important.  I noted in this bio on O'Casey that as his life became less complicated and more comfortable his creative powers picked up and even with his ageing and poor eyesight issues was able to be productive.  As my life has calmed down and become more stable in the past year  (after a few years of total instability and chaos) my creative juices almost need some kind of dam, or at the very least, a way to note ideas and concepts for future pondering.  I have found ways and means to do this without losing focus on what I am working on right now.  This has been a long time coming and it's not something I will take for granted.  I am always looking for ways to better harness my energy and save ideas in a potent form for later use.

One of my intentions for the near future is to write some screenplays in the horror genre.  For that, I will look for a pen name that does not give away my female gender.  There is a prejudice in the industry that women can't write good sci-fi stories, or even horror stories (save for Ann Rice and Mary Shelly).  For me to get a script under the right nose, I need the right sounding name or at least a name that sounds male.  I am seriously considering using Yeats O'Casey as my pseudonym.  I wonder what O'Casey would have thought of that???

Chugging Along

Ah, the challenge of a brain that can go in 5 directions at once!  While working on my play over the long weekend, I suddenly got an idea having to do with the novel I've been tinkering but got stuck with.  The idea was such that I had to stop working on the play and spend the next two hours editing and re-structuring some of the book.  I have learned to manage these inspirational asides to the point where I actually get projects done.  There comes a point where you have to let the thing fly.

I will have this play finished in plenty of time for submitting it where I want it to go.  A friend recently asked me to write a one-act play for her to direct for a festival next year.  I have not committed to that yet.  I am very focused on getting this play done and out the door.  I have not felt this in tune with a writing project in many years.  

Post-Traumatic Stress?

Anyone who knows me is aware that for the past several years, I've been very underemployed or not employed at all. Unemployment paychecks stop coming after a time, and even when I got unemployment, it was not enough to pay all of my bills. I had to give up having a car and many other things most take for granted.

Even now with a great job and working environment that seems practically designed for me, I still hesitate to celebrate. Too many times things seem to be taking a turn for the better then it ally disappeared through no fault of my own. I have not seen any signs of anything going south with this particular job much as I started to after a short time at other jobs. I should feel more confident about it. But I do not.

I talked with a friend who is a social worker who told me that my feelings are not unusual for those who have struggled for a long time to find employment. I half-jokingly quipped that I felt as if I had some sort of Post-Traumatic Disorder. I link that illness with those who have suffered a catastrophic physical event and not someone who has been unemployed and struggling. However, my friend told me that spending months and even years consumed by looking for employment - just looking for any paycheck and not finding much of anything - is one of the most stressful things that can happen to anyone.

I thought a lot about my conversation with her afterwards and I can easily recollect even as recent as this past January feeling as if I was going to lose my mind, yet again. The constant stress and then my spending literally 8 hours a day looking through want ads, being on line looking for work and creating new resumes and even going down the employment office to look through what they had posted. I even had the thought of being 50 years old and never getting hired again. I had that thought many times over.

I was fortunate in many years in that when it came to pivotal moments (such as will I be moving into a tent to live?) I had friends and family who tapped into their limited resources to help. This one reason why I will never judge a homeless person on the street - a person who hit a bad patch because they lost their job and didn't have anyone to help them. It is so easy to wind up on the streets as a homeless person.

One of the reasons I post this note is that many FB friends and others who read my blog are experiencing the pain and stress of not having a job and, like me, consumed every waking hour with looking for work or some way to pay rent and utilities. If you feel as if the stress is overwhelming remember you can get treatment at clinics and through Medicaid. Talk to your doctor about it and don't allow the stress to manifest itself in your body. I gained 50 pounds during all the years I've been looking for steady, full-time work. I am only now starting to lose that weight. Also, realize that it will take you time, once you find employment, to feel less stressed so don't think it's weird if you started a new job and even after a few months still feel wigged out. My friend the social worker tells me that is normal and that over time that feeling will dissipate.

One important piece of advice that the social worker gave me: try to do something for yourself each day even it is only going on a nice walk through a park. There are free things to do and it is important that you safeguard your mental health every way possible as constant stress wears you down physically and mentally.