Frustrated Writer

Ya know, over the Christmas holdiays I went to a very cool party here in Atlanta where I met a very cool actor. A friend made an introduction and we chatted for a few minutes, a brief conversation that led to him agreeing to read my screenplay (he mentioned that he wanted to get into producing).

So I sent him the script and a few weeks later I actually heard from his manager. He left me a voice mail saying that they'd gotten the project and that he had a few questions...yada, yada, yada. It was a very nice message that looked like maybe things would move forwards. Anywho, I returned the call and left several messages, but I haven't heard anything further about him or his manager about the project. Whoopdido right? It's Hollywood, people make a living out of bullshitting others. But it's just that at times it's so frustrating. I'd rather have more rejection letters to add to the pile of exactly two that I've received about my script, than to hear nothing at all. Especially with all the false starts.

I'm plowing ahead still nonetheless, but if you're an artist like me who has ever dealt with the frustration of query letters (w/SASE) that still go unanswered or agents and managers who give you the run around, please give me a shout out. I KNOW I am not alone in this.

I think I have less cellulite on my thighs. Woo who! It's the small victories :)

Why I write

I write because it keeps me centered, focused, and provides a natural outlet for my wandering mind, always looking, always questioning-- trying to figure out the best way to express something, to stay alive and to feel. I write because I am a storyteller, filled with an endless supply of ideas. I write because it keeps me grounded, human and connected, communicating thoughts and feelings and frustrations I’d be too shy to express otherwise. I write so that I live. Without this, what else would I do?

Voiceless

I was reviewing some short stories I had written, thinking I may put together a collection when I realized how distinct my writing has become. Like a mixture of short and long sentences that come together in an interesting cadence. It’s my signature I think. For a while there I was beginning to think that my work seemed too heavily influenced by some of my favorite authors like Terry McMillan. I didn’t want to write like Terry, I wanted to write like me. But what does that mean really? Will I have the courage to keep my characters free and honest, using language for example, that I’d be embarrassed for my grandmother to know that I use, but that’s really how people talk.

But I am proud to say that I seemed to have developed my own distinct voice. Whether or not that’s a voice that others connect with…well that remains to be seen. I will keep you posted.

Make Me Happy

Last year I found the key to happiness—I think. I was reading a magazine article on a woman who had written a book on achieving happiness in your life. Being generally discontented a lot of the time I couldn’t wait to read what she had to say. The author said that gratitude, merely being grateful for everything that you do have and not comparing yourself to others (which is the root of discontent) was the key. After reading the article I had to say I agreed.

My problem with my life was simply the way I viewed my life. As long as I measured myself on this ridiculous self created scale in relationship to my friends, peers, celebrities, etc., on the surface I was bound to come up short. I came to understand that the key lied in my acceptance of my own life. I needed to see the bigger picture. I am who I am, I have what I have, by the grace of God and I needed to stop whining and feeling sorry for myself because the world will not simply stop and devote itself to making me happy.

The key to happiness is simple—gratitude, being thankful and satisfied with your portion. So every time you feel yourself ready to complain about how something didn’t work out like you thought it would or how someone else’s life seems so much better than yours, remember that out there in the world somewhere is someone who is suffering far worse than you could ever imagine who would love to have your problems.

I trust God and I know that there is a purpose in everything that He does and everything He allows. He has a plan, I just have to roll with it.

What's in a name?

Okay, okay so lately I’ve been spending most of my time working on my website and setting up my blog. It’s the most wicked self-indulgence imaginable. It’s all about me. How fabulous, and pretty, and talented I am. Okay, enough already.

I was reading the Wall Street Journal at work. Relax, it’s actually a part of my job and I came across an article on Chinese businesspeople who had changed their birth names or something that had more meaning for success. The article used the example of a man whose given name was Jun, which meant handsome in Mandarin. Not so bad a name to give your kid, I thought. Except that this man wanted to create more energy of success in his business, and while handsome may take you some of the way, it will only take you so far. So, after seeking the advice of a Feng Shui master, he changed his name to Jianming, which means “establishing a bright future.”

At first read I thought the article was cute and interesting, but then it got me thinking—what if you could actually shape your future by having the right name? After all, I did name my son Isaiah (meaning “salvation of God”), because I wanted him to have a powerful name that would anoint his life with greatness. So I immediately went online to look up the meaning of my own name, thinking that that may shed some light on my weird life that has led me (and some other people) to wonder if I was in fact plagued with bad luck. Kisha means “rainfall” in Slavic. That explains everything.

What’s in a name? Hmmm…apparently not my writing career. After doing further research I discovered that there is another writer, published author to be exact, with my name--Kisha Green. I didn’t know what to make of it at first except to hate on her skills as a writer (okay I have a mean streak) and to curse my parents for giving me such a boring and common name. Couldn’t they look into my eyes and see the soul of an artist? I should have a fly name like Asha Bandele or Ntozake Shange or dream hampton (who spells hers in all lower case). Actually I wonder if this little discovery was the universe’s way of telling me to move my ass and finish my novel or my opportunities would be given to someone else.

What a day...

Okay so can I just say that it has truly been one of those days, well mornings actually since it’s only 11:49. It all started when I got my wires crossed with someone I was supposed to meet up with this morning and I was late for work. Then after a week of dieting and exercising like one of those contestants on The Biggest Loser, I’ve lost exactly zero pounds. I burned my breakfast twice, and to make matters worse my hair didn’t turn out right, I no longer like my outfit and I have a zit! Well to be fair at least the zit is being covered up by my bangs that are a little too poofy on the left side. I can’t believe I still have to deal with acne. I’m 34 years-old single mother, isn’t life hard enough?

At the Laundromat and one of my bras has gotten hung on something and is now on full display to everyone as the dryer goes round and round. I don't know why, but I am slightly embarrassed by this--exposure. I am always quick to load my undies b 4 anyone can see them. Maybe I don't want everyone to see my t hongs or my granny panties or my DD bra dangling in the window of the dryer. Can't a sista get some privacy? Ooh that guy is kinda cute. Oops look at me dropped a thong on the floor. I wonder if he saw it. :-)