It’s hard being brave. Marielle and I are trying to grow our pie company, Windowsill Pies. Recently, I have been perplexed about why I am even making pies and incubating this business when there are so many challenges to continuing. Finally I realized the reason: screenplays take a long time to write and I need a more immediate manifestation of my creativity. Having spent years in what feels like a dark room, chipping away at stone, sifting sand, hacking words until they take, I want to make something in the short term that is lovely and original. Pie.
Figuring that out was like stepping in the direction of my life. Committing to this new process isn’t distracting me from my main mission, but rather it informs my route. It stirs my creativity and creates joy. Not Sunday afternoon party at someone else’s house kind of joy but the hard work kind of joy. It seems that joy and challenge are inexplicable linked because now I am ushering myself out of my comfortable kitchen and into the uncomfortable place of finding a professional baking space, hearing “No” a lot, facing money realities, and looking at a long list of steps, half of which are beyond my comprehension. I need to “Just Ask.” Ask who? It is so hard to ask people for info/ kitchen space/ time. I’m scared of interrupting people. I am scared of being a nuisance. I’m scared of a “no.” My Jiminy Cricket says, “Ehh, keep moving, keep asking. Someone will give you a good answer.”
To quote a pie customer quoting Joseph Campbell, “Follow your bliss and the universe will open doors where there were only walls.”
The older I get and the more I use Quick books, the clearer it is: God gave me certain talents that don’t include accounting. Doesn’t give me a pass on doing the books. Gotta take care of business. But I feel strongly that honoring and developing my talents is the best way I can serve the world. It is my irrefutable job to keep doing what I put was here to do.
That brings me to a Robert Frost quote:
I want to write a poem that is barbed.
A barb sticks. The barbed word is hard to hold. But you want to keep holding it because you can feel the prick and you know you are alive. I think that is what Frost meant. What I am sure of is that a barb is a very real object that does not live in the hypothetical.
I just finished Constance Adler’s 6-week writing course. It was an intimate creative writing workshop with five peers and Constance. My screenplay is getting better. I think I’ve created a few barbs; I started to draw little blood. I’m hoping it’s funny too.
Check out this witty video lecture by the artist James Victore. He articulates out loud a lot of these thoughts I’ve been having. Mr. Victore, thanks for saying it so succinctly. And thanks for making me laugh at the tailor-made time.