Sleepless, in West Hollywood

About finding my screenwriting muse again

Photo by Brian Wangenheim on Unsplash

I just checked into my hotel in West Hollywood.

It’s clean, inexpensive, has a parking garage (rare), seems safe, and upon first inspection, seems like it stands some chance of being up to code, but that’s all I can say about it.

Sleepless, in West Hollywood.

I’ve been a member of the Write LA community (remotely) for nearly a year. That competition was the first one I entered, and I was happy they’d extended the deadline because the Screencraft competition (the whole company, really) folded the day before I was set to submit The Woman’s Order for the very first time. I paid a bit extra for written feedback with the founder, but after placing in a few other comps and not his, I felt his direct feedback on my first draft and a subsequent rewrite would be invaluable. So, I sprung for the full package where he reads the first draft, offers feedback, and then does the same for a second draft.

We met and discussed his feedback. I learned a lot, enough to start a rewrite. But I haven’t made it beyond the first few pages of the second draft.

Last year was… a lot.

Even so, I’ve been consistent with writing something throughout the year, and I’m really proud of that. It’s mostly been short form, but the first time (ever), I did not stop writing when life started life-ing pretty hard. But, I lost my long form creative self somewhere in the shuffle.

In part of the book “Big Magic” by Elizabeth Gilbert, she talks about seducing your creative muse. Drawing it back to yourself. Putting on something nice for it. Lipstick. Perfume. Showing up and putting in some effort, to attract it back to you.

Enter, the grand gesture.

Today was the first grand gesture I’ve made towards wooing my muse. When Write LA shared that there were free seats available for a live read of a screenplay (someone else’s, not mine), on the Monday that was my holiday in West Hollywood, I got loving support from my partners and committed to the trip and the as-advertised hotel. The drive was meant to be 5.5 hours. It took nearly 9 hours. I had to delay and ultimately skip lunch with my sister on the way through, and only made it just in time.

But it was worth it.

I found her here, my muse. She was waiting for me on Melrose Avenue, in the second story of a building filled with rooms, and those rooms, filled with people, performing and spectating and applauding. When I walked into Studio E, she was there in the front row, and she saved me a seat.

In that room, I saw how dreams were made. I saw another writer see his screenplay come to life, read by live actors and watched by the crowd, my muse, and me. I got to meet the Write LA founder and his partner and family, and after some mingling, my muse and I left for the hotel.

After we checked in, I told her all about the new rental house in a much more peaceful, safe home; about my sister getting through kidney cancer; about how often we’ll go to the beach and the forest and the movies; about the new keyboard and oil lamp on the writing desk and the hard line between work and personal time.

I’ve made space for her to move in, and I think she trusts me again. I can’t wait to come back to screenwriting, together.