The Screen Writer Writes, for...?

 Yeah, its jerky and judgemental. But I have to conclude my friend Hippie J is not serious about her screenwriting career. It makes me think of how stricken some people are, by the idea of actual success. Including myself. 

Hippie a friend who writes every day, day after day, living off family money monthly stipend... and is in a constant tizzy about trying to find a new agent, trying to get a project assignment finished by deadline to get some other agent... and more.  Its boring to go into, all the neurotic details. But essentially, I think the process of chasing down never-landed agents, of making pitches online, taking classes and seminars about How to Succeed etc... is really a subconscious self sabotage. Because there are many other routes that might be easier - and she refuses them.

I guess I have to be honest and say that I never got over the sting, from an incident of years ago. I was striving to make short films, and to move towards some kinds of expression via video media. Our initial meetup at a Film Makers Social Mixer was nice.  I made a new friend, with her.  I thought it fortuitous, that she wrote screenplays, comedic ones, and I was interested to put people together to Make Stuff - including myself.  

I suggested filming one of her scripted projects, any one of them she was unable to sell. (Which in reality, is pretty much any and ALL projects she's written!).  Her scripts have funny stuff in them, and are written in a strange format that sidesteps a lot of convention. There's loads and loads of dialogue, which I'm sure pleases her to no end. I've been there, I've done that. 

She could toss over one of her scripts, and not have to do much of the work of producing it as a living breathing final film. To me that was a great offer! But so and... anyway... when I suggested we do this filming, her reaction was "OH no - no, I want my scripts attached to 'name' actors. But thanks."

So. 

To me. 

This means, "I plan on going straight to the Top. I have no use for a slow climb!"  And here we are, 13 year later, and she's not even a tenth of a step closer to her goal.  Which again leads me to conclude that she is not interested in Success... but rather, the writing process and the fantastical notion that someone is going to swoop down and note her genius, and bring her on in to hollywood! She does write, every day, so she's no slouch. But its interesting to hear her talk - about how she's going out to LA to meet with producers, and so on.  I'll be dipped in dog shit if she does hit success there. But, I kinda doubt it now. I think I'm just envious of someone who can do whatever they want, pretty much all the time.  So there's that: my personal envies. I guess. 

The Death of Stephanie

 The Death of Stephanie

I'm not sure why it came up again but, something brought to mind again the death of Stephanie Berry. We weren't really close friends, after we left IS293 in 1980. We weren't ever really great friends, either. But she was nice. And she was very sweet and cute. Her French mother was friendly with my own mother, a french teacher. (thats as far as the connection went; they were not great great friends, either). I think Stephanie was the first girl I asked out on a date, over the phone, at age 12.  Rejected!  "I'm dating someone right now" was her answer. In retrospect, I have to wonder if that was a truth, or a quick lie. Girls and women are faced with these kinds of snap-responses time and again. Its hard for guys to face rejection, and I'm sure on the other end its hard to be the Rejector. Either way, she was a nice girl.

Years later, as a recent college graduate working as Administrative Assisatnt at carl Fischer Music publishing, I was on a lunch break, walking casually on Astor Place. This super gorgeous girl my age - 22? - walks right up, into my face. "Kevin Davidson?" she inquires. I'm so blown away in my deep insecurity, to be faced with this gorgeous girl (woman), I'm dumbstruck. "Stephaie B! How have you been??" 

I cannot even recall what I replied. I'm sure I kept my composure, acting the part of someone more secure than I felt in that moment. But all I felt was a completely shattered psyche. We chatted very briefly, and my discomfort was so high that I kind of wanted to get away from her! Even tho, again, she was clearly a kind, nice person. I was just unnerved, and insecure. Off she went, since I imagine she had her own pathway to follow.  To this day i have no recollection of where she was working, living, what she was doing... etc.  

Then, in my early 50s, I stumbled upon her obituaary. Its mustive been one of those moments where I was doodling around the internet, and by happenstance my mind reached into the past, wondering about very random people I remembered from way way back. Phoebe, Simon, Stephanie... and up came Stephanie. And obituary. Died of lung cancer.  I was stunned. Horrified. Intrigued. 

She had had a life that started with film school, and ended with her designing accessories, specifically scarves and winter accoutrements. And had had a husband, two children she home schooled for a stretch, a thriving network of friends revolving around her community, a children's theater group she founded, and other interesting activities that plugged her in to Doing Things. 

She was diagnosed with lung cancer in 2015 and died in 2019.  How could Stephanie, or anyone with a good heart, be taken down by cancer? Her obit said she spent stretches as a bartender and hostess at clubs in NY, around the time she approached me on the street.  Did she smoke herself silly then, and lay the foundation for lung cancer that way? Or was it just luck of the draw, no particular reason other than renegade cells that ran through her system into her lungs?  Impossible to know. 

But there is one thing I do know: I felt utterly disturbed in trying to ease my mind, in themoments I had stumbled upon her Legacy.com obit. I wanted to turn to someone who might know her, from school. But the only other person i could turn to, schoolfriend Herbie, had himself died, in 2015. Herbie had coked, drank,smoked, and eaten himself silly, to drown his own psychoses, destroying his heart. He was obese and inactive, taking care of his mother while working the phone through the night. he was doing Debt Reconciliation for a credit company... and at age 50 continuing to drink and coke whenever possible, as if he was 21. Forever 21 sounds like a fun aspiration, but at age 50, there is just no way to keep one's body level in the face of drugs and booze and overeating... unless, I suppose, one was to routine run five miles each morning, to clean out the systme. Even then, the odds are pretty stacked against a person.  All this to say, there was no turning to Herbie, to talk about dead Stephanie! Because Dead Herbie was gone, as well! 

The worst part of losing people that are connected to us, is that they take with them the Connections. And the stories. The famliars with our pasts, and with the peoples from the past.  Somewhere in there, I'm flashing back to my own past, by msyelf, perhaps trying to figure out just who I am now. Or how I might have lived my younger life better. Not to have chased down the one that I likely had no chance with. But I suppose, if I could redo anything, it would be to not have been so insecure and easily thrown, as my younger self.  I'm not sure my current self at age 60, is all that much better. Maybe I'm better at hiding it. But, I'm wistful now, and I'm able to beat myself down for not living some aspects a little better.  Maybe there's still time.   I won't know... till I know. What am I waiting for?