A link to my blog post for Hello Giggles:
http://hellogiggles.com/gilmore-girls-life-changing-experience/
Monday, April 25, 2016
Comparisons Are Ostupidus
Comparisons are odious.
Cervantes, Christopher Marlowe and John Donne have all used the insightful
phrase. Shakespeare modified the saying with his own witty spin when he wrote: comparisons
are odorous. And now, centuries later, I would like to
update the much-used sentiment by saying: comparisons are ostupidus. You might not find that word in the
dictionary, so I will provide my own definition here:
ostupidus
[oh-stoopid-uhs] (1.) of or pertaining to a complete and total waste of time (2.)
seriously, a total time suck (3.) a sad distraction from what is good and lovely
and unique about oneself (4.) a dumb lie
perpetrated by the idiot inner critic
See also: just plain
dumb
I was sure I would win my first Oscar by 23. Never mind that I moved to Hollywood after my
23rd birthday…I figured nine months was plenty of time to be
discovered. After all, Audrey Hepburn won an Oscar for her first starring role
in the movie for ROMAN HOLIDAY at the age of 23. Of course that arbitrary dream blew away as I
blew the candles on my 24th birthday cake. It crushed me until I realized that my heart
was much more drawn to writing than acting – so I amended my ambitions. I would win my first Oscar by 27 like Matt
and Ben. And so began the maddening game
of placing my worth on the progress of other people’s paths instead of my own,
feeling like I’d somehow failed as the arbitrary deadline passed every
time. I didn’t get my Oscar by 27 or a
Pulitzer by 30 or a baby by 32, which was the age my mother was when she had
her last child. But it wasn’t just the
progress of my career or my ovaries I compared with others – I can remember
being 7 years old and getting my first perm (remember those?) because I wanted
to be like “bad” Sandy in the end of the movie GREASE. When I was signed by a modeling agency at 13
because they believed my big feet were an indication of how tall I’d be, I held
on to the hope that if I could just grown to be 5’6 like Kate Moss, the
shortest supermodel, I would make it. Unfortunately
I stalled at 5’3 and the agency sent me (and my lying big feet) packing by
17. And once again, instead of embracing
my own unique path and destiny, I went around feeling “less than” all of those
people I was comparing myself to. I can
tell you it took me a long time before I would leave the house without my
4-inch high heels.
I know I’m not the only one suffering from comparisonitis. In fact, I’d say it is almost an epidemic,
especially between women. It seems every
time I look over photographs with my friends of some lovely time we had
together, all we do is complain, “I wish my arms were more like yours” or sigh
and say, “why can’t I get my hair to do that?”
And more often than not, the very trait we covet in someone else is
usually the thing they wish they could change about themselves. It’s the curling iron/flat iron phenomenon –
people with curly hair wish it were straight while those of us saddled with
straight hair spend hours trying to make it curl (only to have it fall three
minutes later). The crazy thing is, the
more beautiful a person may be, the more she seems to only see her flaws. I once had a meeting set with a famous
actress who was undeniably gorgeous and talented. The day before the meeting, my agent called
to make sure I knew not to wear any make-up or high heels to my meeting
explaining this beautiful star needed to be the prettiest person in the room
because her manager made it clear she would not be able to work with someone
who made her feel “threatened”. At
another meeting, a different stunning actress carried 5 pairs of sunglasses in
her purse at all times so she would never be caught by the paparazzi wearing
the same shades as someone else at an event, lest they win the dreaded “who wore
it better” nonsense in some trashy magazine.
Even worse, when I first came to Los Angeles, I worked as an actress on
a show where the lovely 15-year-old star pulled me aside during my wardrobe
fitting and asked quite sincerely, “Why haven’t you had breast implants – isn’t
it hard making it in this business with such small boobs?” She felt immense pressure to look a certain
way and wished she had my “courage” (ha!) to be flat, but a year later she had
gone under the knife, convinced it would launch her to superstardom. Sadly, she hasn’t worked since 2005.
Here’s why comparison are so odious, odorous and ostupidus –
they are the birthplace of insecurity, and they make perfectly wonderful people
feel, well, less than wonderful. Somewhere along the line, that young girl had
seen an actress with bigger boobs getting more jobs and reasoned that her small
chest was the reason for her non-celebrity status, when it probably had nothing
to do with anything. There are stars of
all boob size and shape (if you don’t believe me, just ask Seth McFarlane). The
truth is, the people who make it, the ones don’t merely survive but thrive, are
the ones who take advantage of their strengths, not the ones who obsess over
their perceived shortcomings. The rest
end up in rehab, or as answers to obscure questions during trivia bingo at gay
bars.
Of course it’s not just a Hollywood problem, it is a
universal problem – teens compare themselves to models in magazines, men
compare themselves to classmates who have gone on to greater success, people
buy bigger cars, more expensive purses, higher heels in the hopes of being more
like the person that they perceive as having it all. But the secret no one seems to realize is
that more often than not, that person that we spend money and time trying to be
more like, is actively wishing they could be someone else. Oh stupid us.
We never seem to notice that no one is paying attention to our shortcomings
because they are solely focused on their own issues. Which is completely counter productive,
because as much as we may wish and hope and pray to be like someone else, the
scary, but ultimately freeing truth is: we will never be anyone but ourselves.
I have had writers who are just starting out ask me
urgently, “How did you get an agent? How did you get your script read? How can
I get to where you are in your career?”
To which I give them a little practical advice followed by the
admonition, “But no two paths are ever the same.” I recognize that there is a difference between
aspiration and comparison. We can be
inspired by others, and I have many people that I look up to, but those people
make me want to be the best version of me I can be, not some knock off version
of them. So I believe that instead of
wasting our time and energy feeding our insecurities with comparisons, we
should strive to make the most of what we already have, and who we already are. Because the wonderful truth is, there is
only one you in the world, and you have already made a difference just by being
here – the rest is frosting. So go ahead
and treat yourself to a bite... Chris Martin is already taken, so there’s
really no point in killing yourself to get Gwyneth’s abs. As for me, I’m going to subscribe to the
Jessica Tandy Oscar timeline…and if I never get one, well my goal is to look
back on my life and know that I sure had fun trying.
Soul Surfing
While writing the movie SOUL SURFER, (a true story about a
teenage surfer, Bethany Hamilton, whose arm was bitten off during a shark
attack) I discovered that Bethany went back into the water to try surfing again
less than one month after the horrific attack. When I asked her how she could have possibly
gotten the courage to go back into the water, especially so soon after the
terrifying event, she told me quite simply that she knew if she waited even
another day longer, she may never have gone back in again. She told me how some surfers can “psych
themselves out” after a gnarly accident thinking about all of the "what ifs"
and replaying the terror of the moment until they become paralyzed with
fear. And they never surf again.
How often we are faced with just such a thing in our own
lives – the waves beckon, but we stand frozen on the shore, wanting assurances
of perfect safety before we dive back in.
And because safety is never guaranteed, we often never get past dipping
a toe in before we turn away, too afraid to try again. When our idea gets shot down at work, we
decide it’s easier to just keep our thoughts to ourselves; if a movie we love
gets put in turnaround once again, we become jaded and begin to cater to the
lowest common denominator so we might not have to feel the sting of failure for
something we care too much about; and then there’s always the feeling of
disappointment after a broken relationships that keeps us from wanting to put
ourselves “out there” again, lest we be rejected. Fear threatens to keep us stuck on the
sidelines of our lives.
The great paradox is that vulnerability takes courage…you
have to be strong to let yourself be soft.
In a way, it wasn’t just Bethany’s body that was maimed in
that accident – her heart was broken when that shark took her arm, and in so
doing threatened to take away the thing she loved most in the world –
surfing. She could have walled up her
heart, wrapped it in bubble wrap to make sure she would never risk enduring
such a loss again – but instead she decided to leave the wound open and let the
saltwater heal it, taking back the waves she loved and refusing to let fear
win. Today she is one of the greatest
surfers in the world. A champion many
times over – and an inspiration to millions.
Risk is not easy, but I think it is much harder in the long
run to let loss trap you into living a bland existence, devoid of the joy of
triumph, and the glory of love.
The Windex Factor
I wear glasses. I eat
a lot of chips. I haven’t seen anything
clearly in years.
My glasses are in various states of smudginess throughout
the day. But the funny thing is, I
usually don’t even notice until my husband pretends his fingers are windshield
wipers and comically swishes them across my gritty spectacles. He usually says something like, “Good God,
woman, how can you see anything?” At
which point I just laugh and remark that after a while, I don’t even notice. It’s easy to get used to seeing the world a
certain way. But when I actually clean
my glasses, the world looks so much better, so much brighter, that my whole
mood can change. Restored sight is a
beautiful thing.
So what do my greasy glasses have to do with Hollywood? Well, for me – everything.
In her book, A Small
Rain, my favorite author, Madeleine L’Engle writes about a character who
says he washes windows for a living.
When pressed further, he discloses that he is a pianist, and that he
believes great art washes the windows of our souls, giving us a glimpse into
something greater, helping us see God and one another more clearly. It is based on a scripture in the New Testament,
“For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in
part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.” In other words, it’s hard in this life to see
clearly – there’s a lot of dirt and grime (prejudices, fear, pain and anger)
that gunk up the windows of our spirit.
And like me growing accustomed to my smudged glasses, we don’t always
notice it ourselves – sometimes we need someone to point it out for us, to rub
our gunky glasses on their shirt and give us a glimpse of how beautiful the
world really is, and how alike we all are in what really matters.
I believe movies at their best can do just that – they can
be a soft cloth to wipe away our cloudy judgments.
Not only can a great film help us see others and the world
around us more clearly – the best ones can help us to get a better view of
ourselves as well. There are times when
that silver screen becomes a mirror, reflecting deep dreams we may have buried
under years of grimy doubt, showing us the potential we forgot we have. When we see a story of redemption unfold in
living color (or even black and white) before our eyes, we are reminded and
that forgiveness is possible, new starts are achievable, and if we believe we
can overcome any circumstance. Just look
at Rudy or George Bailey, Andy Dufrain or even Ron Burgundy – we root for them
because we see a piece of ourselves in them. And so we are inspired when they
reflect back a clear vision of what we could be.
Who of us hasn’t been beat up by life and misunderstood by
others? Who of us hasn’t failed something or someone? We’ve all messed up and hoped it wouldn’t be
the thing that defines us. Each failure
and disappointment is like mud flung at the windshield, or so many bug splats –
after a while, our view becomes limited.
Where we used to have a clear window to the road ahead, now it may seem
there is no path at all. That’s where
discouragement sets in. But a great
movie (book, song, or painting) can wipe away that gunk, even for just a fleeting
moment, and remind us there’s a whole world beyond what is directly in our
view. The wipers pull back the muck
revealing a glimpse of he road just beyond, and we are encouraged to keep
moving forward.
At least those are the kinds of movies I hope to write. When I am pondering whether to take a project
or not, I like to determine the Windex factor.
Does it have the potential to clean some windows? To show a view we may not have seen
before? Will it help reflect the beauty
of life a little more clearly? Might it
wash away the dirt of isolation with the clear waters of compassion? I hope that while I may be a screenwriter by
trader, I’ll always be a glass cleaner by vocation. Because I know from experience that it feels
pretty great to put on a fresh pair of sparkling spectacles.
This is a poem my brother wrote for me over a decade ago,
before I was even a professional writer – back when I was just dreaming that I might
be so fortunate some day. It serves as a
reminder to me, of how far I have come, and how far I still want to go; as well
as being a reminder to keep cleaning my glasses. It has a special place in my
office now and has become something of a mission statement for me.
WASHING WINDOWS
for Kara
light smudged across
grit&glass
a wash of diffusion-
threatening opaque
for now we see but a
poor reflection,
darkly;
but then?
on the otherside, outlines:
the semblance of faeries
and saints
diffraction,
an inheritance
we remember not how to claim,
a foot suspended above the living sea
and you?
it’s you who would dip her pen
in water.
tracing these shapes for us
fleeting, faithful
in dimming streaks of clarity
excavate the pictures
of what we once were,
but failed to become;
engrave for us the lines
of restoration.
~Andy McLeroy
REWRITE YOUR LIFE
I love writing. I
do. Love the creation of something that
has never existed in the world before, love the way dialogue plays in my head,
love the sound the keys make as I transcribe it to the page. But today I have a confession to make: as
much as I love writing, I hate rewriting. Even now, I’m about ready to chuck my computer
into the washing machine and set it on spin if my husband gives me one more
note to make this opening paragraph “punchier.”
There. Punchy enough? I know, I know, don’t blame the
messenger. And the truth is, like the
famous quote points out, writing is
rewriting. But the necessity of it
doesn’t make it any easier. It is
difficult, tedious and sometimes painful work.
It hurts to whittle away words that hard work have wrought – to “kill
your darlings” as Falkner once quipped.
Hard to look at your own work with a critical eye (or to stop being so
critical in some cases.) It is difficult
to cut away lines you love, characters you have grown to adore and scenes you
are proud of, simply because they aren’t moving the story forward. And the most painful part of the process for
me is facing the fact that I will never be perfect the first time around. Or the second. Or even the fifteenth. In fact, perfection as a writer is completely
unattainable…but a great story is not.
And that is what rewriting will win you.
Just like Michelangelo chipping away at the stone to discover his David,
or a master jeweler cutting away parts of a diamond to find the maximum shine –
brilliance is in the editing. And the
interesting thing is: the same can be said for life.
The author John Irving famously said, “Half my life is an
act of revision.” I would take it a step
further and say that all of life
is. Have you ever noticed the clarity
that comes from cutting out the things in your life that are keeping your story
from moving forward? That’s because
things like guilt and resentment and unrealistic expectations only serve to
distract from the important things in life, the central plot, if you will. Grudges, anger and fear can bog down a life
and make it as ineffectual just as an extra twenty pages in the middle of a
second act can ruin a good screenplay. I know it is not an easy process to
evaluate the things in your script that are holding you back from greatness –
and harder still to make the actual cut once you’ve narrowed in on the
problem. Personally I will often try
everything I can to keep a scene that I’ve written in my script, even when it
isn’t working, because of the fear that I won’t be able to come up with
something better. It feels safer to
stick with what you know and to try to force it to work because the unknown
makes us vulnerable. And the impulse
that compels a writer to keep clunky scenes and expositional dialogue in her
work is the same thing that makes us hold onto bad relationships and stay in
unfulfilling jobs that are keeping us from reaching our full potential –
mainly, we are afraid there might not be anything better out there.
Plain and simple, revision is an act of faith – it requires
that you hit the delete key before you can write something new in its
place. And sometimes in life you have to
take a leap of faith to chip away those familiar pieces of stone, whose heavy
rigidness you have mistaken for stability, in order to find the masterpiece
that lies just beneath. And trust me,
while you might hate the process, if you push through the tough changes and
don’t throw the computer in the washing machine, you will end up with something
you love and can’t wait to share with the world.
I challenge you this week to use an editor’s eye to take a
look at the story you want to tell with your life. Is there something you’ve been doing or
thinking that just doesn’t seem to serve that story? Is there a person or thing keeping the plot
from moving forward? If so, maybe it’s
time to hit the delete key and make room for something new…
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2016
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April
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- How an Episode of Gilmore Girls Changed My Life
- Comparisons Are Ostupidus
- Soul Surfing
- The Windex Factor
- REWRITE YOUR LIFE
- Career Claustrophobia
- Just Do It
- Love at First Gripe
- Outspiration
- Pollyanna's Playbook
- How Salinger Broke My Heart...and Started My Career
- She Believed She Could...So She Did
- So Uncool
- WAIT
- Who's That Girl
- Want Is a Four Letter Word
- Snakes, Dementors and Planes...Oh my!
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April
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