It’s Twelve past Twelve

…And my partner is still writing our project.

You guessed it, he’s a he, and I’m me.  A woman writer in the twenty-first century still dealing with issues of,  “Hey, hold on there! Where the heck do you think you’re going so fast?”

Guys don’t get it, just like in regular life.  I mean after all, my partner is also my partner.  No we’re not married or we’d be called the Roses.  Nope, we live together mostly in bliss … until it’s time to write.

The problem is that I’ve always detested back seats. Writing since seven years old and having raced cars and torn up the pavement with my Kawasaki (motorcycle), playing the dutiful, soft–spoken, smiling doll – mouth only opened when required – is damned near impossible.  So I’m percolating, rather than collaborating.

Okay: I kinda expected a Dashiell Hammett experience – you know,  William Powell and Myrna Loy doing their thing in The Thin Man series.  Interestingly, that partnership so perfect aired in the late ’30’s.   Nick and Nora Charles and of course,  Astor the pooch and Mrs. Astor.   The perfect San Francisco family for hard-boiled detecting.

Yet here we are in 2011 and getting my dearest to acknowledge my Noraness as a necessity rather than a safety net, mothering role is frustrating.  The voyeur in me smiles as I look up over my Macbook at him, enjoying himself writing for both of us while I write this.  Will he run out of steam? Hardly.   He’s a Scorpio.   Maybe that’s it.   The sign so secretive, we’re not sure who those born under it are and if they really exist.

So what I’ve done is this: I’ve started three screenplays in the creative hours I’ve been hopped up to write, but left waiting.   I know what you’re thinking . “Hopped up”,  she said.  “Wonder on what?”

On adrenaline, that’s what; caused by my co-conspirator in the adventure of screenwriting.  Yes, it works for me.  It builds up,  all those feelings,  sending me in new directions discovering new and exciting angles, as I sit here seemingly percolating — I’m fearlessly creating,  deeply exploring and richly incubating  — in my mind’s sky!


Thank you partner, for sharpening my edges, bringing my blood to a boil, and causing me to discover pure gold!

What a process. Gotta love it!



I was told that I was born with a pen in my hand. My mother was not amused. She still isn't. Five of six of us kids are in the Entertainment Biz -- five of us are closet-Leos. Website:
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12 Responses to It’s Twelve past Twelve

  1. Steven says:

    Oh babygirl, I adore fiction. Looks like you’re gonna have a good outlet for it here :-) As the ‘partner’ you’re speaking of (hi luv), we have a giant treatment only partially cut up into doable scenes . . . collaborate with me so we can cement them into cohesive glory. But, your blog, mmmmmm, love that you’re doing it and with this as the theme. Delicious diary-like possibilities.

  2. Steven says:

    Let’s paint the pretty picture in real time. You have to understand us boys like we have to understand you gals, so to speak :-)

  3. Steven says:

    Beautiful blog, my beautiful princess, mmmmmm, love that you’re doing it and with this as the theme. Delicious diary-like possibilities. I wouldn’t EVER put you in a back seat, so let’s get a movin’ my love and always remember, you’re running this ship right up alongside me.

  4. Steven says:

    Each a companion piece to the next, I say. Here’s to endless adventure and unquenchable love.

  5. wordplaydiz says:

    Wordplay Diz

    One wild ride to exact specs coming up.

  6. I was suցgested thi website Ьy my cousin. I aam no longer certain whether
    this put up is written by way of him as nobody else understand such detailed about my trouble.
    You are іncredible! Thanks!

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