Hi Stacey–
I published the personal essay on my Substack. I feel embarrassed, but several women have reached out saying thank you, they loved it, they needed it. I guess that’s been a theme of my life: I write for women. (Duh.)
I’ve probably told you before, but I honestly think so much of my voice was (luckily) honed at my all-girls summer camp. We had to write so many little skits, and I was always aiming to make the older girls laugh. Boys were never at the shows.
I just talked about writing as a woman yesterday, with two very cool and nice (boy) execs at a very cool and nice (boy) company. I’d die to have met with them five years ago. But now it’s like, okay nice to chat, should we walk down a path of developing a movie for two years that has a 10 to 2% chance of getting made? I have low tolerance for the games.
In a bad mood today if you can’t tell, Stacey. I’m sick of living in the promise of the future when we’re looking directly into the future and it sucks. Most people seem to have their eyes closed. The refusal to acknowledge reality upsets me more than the bleak reality itself. I can find a joy and resilience when I face things.
Anyway, I told these execs (great guys) that I’m fairly incapable of writing a commercial thriller. If I write it, I’m going to make it for girls. They’d said they like my weird and quirky voice but wouldn’t the magic be gone if I worked in the box? And I was like, well, yeah. That’s, that’s like the whole tragedy of our modern industry? Everything is getting blander by the minute. I remember so clearly, the first show I sold being unique and buzzy and then at the last minute, the studio asking, Could it actually just be Friends?
Told my therapist how I feel a little out of control lately. Unclear about my goals (I’ve met them, so now what), unclear about my relationships (who will walk with me in the darkness), unclear about what world to prepare for. I’m looking for certainty that doesn’t exist, I’m very aware. So I overshare on the internet and show affection and disappointment alike without restraint.
My therapist countered nothing I’m doing hurts anyone. I’m learning to integrate who I am with who I’ve been. It’s going to be messy and maybe humiliating. I countered, so why would I do anything…ever? Why be visible or express anything to anyone? And then I answered my own question. I was like, huh maybe I’m in a “if not now, when?” phase.
Like, you know, because of climate collapse and the rise of fascism, Stacey. If I’m not comfortable speaking my truth or being myself, in whatever container that arrives as now, then how will I make it through the illusions? I’m building muscle. I’m a big believer in building muscle.
By the way I got some signs from you. My horoscope said I’d be at the right party Saturday, the music would fit. And our song played at my friend’s birthday. It helps that we have a popular song, doesn’t it, Stacey?
xoxo
Alice
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