TheBanyanTree: Many thanks

[Sidda]

to the lovely treefolk who have sent me nice notes, welcoming me back into the fold, and asking about my... antics.

I'm responding at once, to catch us all up.  As briefly as possible.

No, Cecil, I have not rescued any more pets from the snarling dogs next door.  Wish I could -- that pet, my cat, Sam, fell to coyotes last summer.  Well.  He Disappeared.  And in my neighborhood, that means coyotes.  And yes, I live in an urban environment, where I can walk to Starbucks and the dry cleaners.  But I hear coyotes and train whistles every night.  Weird, no?

Tom -- my nephew is out of the Marines, has completed Art School, and is now a much sought after animator in Dallas.  Cool, huh?  Makes me want to go back to school.  A bit.

I haven't written for Hollywood in years.  I finally told the Kevin Spacey folks that I had worked for them for three years, outlined three movies, pitched them, met and met and met... and all I had to show for it was parking tickets and legal bills.  They needed to PAY ME SOMETHING, or the empty promises were just that.  So.  Buh-bye.  :-D

They still send me a Christmas card.  And I just read that Kevin is producing a script I helped with.  Not starring in it, as he wanted to.  He is finally beginning to listen to other people.  He's a good actor, but doesn't choose the best vehicles for himself.  As you may have noticed.  :-\

I've been selling Hollywood vintage clothing on eBay, and writing up the story of the original owner's life.  I have a lovely following, and was hoping to collect the stories in a book, but my first go at agents was discouraging.  I know, I should try a hunnert.  But I get winded more easily than I used to.  Apparently.

I spent a couple of years in a lawsuit with my landlady.  She tried to evict me because I asked for proof she owned the place.  (My landlord died suddenly, and she was his new wife.  He had adopted children with two ex-wives.  I just wanted to make sure she wasn't stealing money from widows and orphans.)  What followed was a lawsuit that cost me much money and my peace of mind -- but cost her over a hundred thousand dollars, legal fees, and much red tape.  Plus I got six months free rent.  I was the clear and final winner.

Was it worth it?  Um.  No.

I am currently looking for a day job, as my Hollywood nest egg has flown the coop.  I am apparently over-qualified for everything.  I'm not sure how one gets a job as an Executive.  My best resume is my writing one.  But folks seem intimidated with THAT, too.  No one really believes that people walk away from Hollywood.  It just isn't done.  Mental eye roll.  Wanna BET??

I am writing plays again, and HERE is where YOU come in.  The play I'm working on is called "Luck."

"What's it about?" you ask.

This is where I look at you and blink slowly.  Once.

I've completed the first draft of the first act, and treated, I think, the basic questions:  what is luck?  are some people lucky and others not?  if you think you're lucky, are you?  what is coincidence and serendipty and destiny and where does Hard Work come in?

I'm having trouble in the second act.  For two reasons.  One -- and I'll have to deal with this, myself -- I need to show the complete arbitrariness of luck.  How random it is.  Which sort of involves getting to know a character and then having him get hit by a bus.  Which will just look like bad playwriting, I fear.  I know I'D be pissed off if I were in the audience.  And it's hard to do, for me.  I have an inherent sense of structure, and it's tough for me to just THROW a wrench in there.

But also, I need more luck stories.  Each scene stands alone, so I can use any type characters or tales.  But I need to hear from you about instances in your own lives when Luck played a mjor role.  Tiny events that had enormous consequences.  Close calls, near misses, that sort of thing.  I'm running out of really dramatic events, I fear.  I've used a doctor, a dog, a traffic accident, a suicide attempt.  A freak accident or crime is floating around in my head.  And luck having to do with weather or mechanical/electronic failure would reasonate with folks.

It's interesting to ask folks about this.  I've found many refer to themselves as unlucky, when *I* would call them careless.  Or even temporarily stupid.  Very few think they are lucky.  But so many of us are lucky just by being born in America, and being white.  We tend to forget about that.

Being in the right place at the right time.  Being in the wrong place at the wrong time.  Tell me your stories.  Good luck, bad luck.  I need some good old-fashioned nudging.  And inspiration.  So I, of course, come to YOU.  :-D

xoxo
Sidda

ps  The BEST event of the past few years has been finding a glorious good man named Jim, who I adore.  And he, me.  Lucky?  Nah.  I was on the Internet dating sites for 2.5 years.  I PAID for finding this guy.  HE was lucky, yes -- he is insanely lucky.  And doesn't realize it.  Nothing bad has every happened to him.  He believes if your life is destroyed, it's because you screwed up.  Don't screw up, and your life will be great.  He does not take into account accidents, broken hearts, illness, betrayal, bad judgement, regrets, the usual.  It's a bit maddening, at times -- and makes me glad I've had some of the rougher roads I 've had.  It builds compassion.  I wish I could figure out how to put Jim's mental attitude on stage.  But it's boring.  Drama is Conflict.  And he's a happy, easy, smart, loving, funny, generous -- and even empathetic -- guy.  Read:  Not stageworthy.  :->