What Now

I made a short film this year (still in post production). I started writing the script in early 2023, worked on it regularly throughout the year, and then hit revisions hard last fall, draft after draft, and we finally shot it this past March. The theme is my usual, identity and love. For me, sometimes they cancel each other out. Can you be who you really are and love who you really want? That’s been a tough one. I get afraid of who I am if I love who I want…. What’s that about? Loss of control? Do I love the wrong people? Who does that make me if I do love them? Here I am speaking as though I, or any of us, have a choice about who we love. In the movie, the woman I wrote and play finally admits how she feels -- profound, eternal love -- about the most primary person in her life, feelings she has buried for good reason. She stops waiting. She can't wait anymore. How you honestly feel is who you are.
 
It was a big learning curve for me to write and direct and be in the movie. I constantly vacillated between trepidation and excitement. But working on it has felt like something core to who I am is finally surfacing, much like my character.
 
I financed it myself so micro-budget is the proper term, but we did pay everyone for their time and talent which is crucial to me. They all worked and continuing working extremely hard for every dollar. It’s a powerful thing to have your vision absorbed and added to and wondered at by other people.
 
Since shooting completed I’ve been in a waiting mode, editing, then waiting for the editor’s schedule to open up again, then meeting with my producers to work out a thousand details, then waiting. Meeting with sound people, the composer, the special effects artist. Reviewing the footage over and over. Making endless lists. Waiting.
 
In the midst of this I quit my part time job that I’ve had for over 12 years. It was a relief. It was time. And it opened up more time. Waiting.
 
Spring moved into a hot, heavy summer with a lot of time inside near the AC and more waiting. Waiting. I should start writing something new. There’s nothing there. Read over early drafts of projects. Nothing sparks. It’s a state I unconsciously embody from deep in my past, waiting to be heard, to be seen, waiting for permission. I alternate between waiting and lurching forward for an intense period of work and then waiting again.
 
I want to get on with it in every way. I want to find a steady movement forward. Time is bearing down. I had a birthday in August. But it’s been bearing down for me since I was a kid. I go to therapy to peel back the layers and get to the truth, to haul things out of my way so I can move, find a flow. Sometimes I can feel the dam ready to burst. Enough with the waiting.