The past jumping up to bite you(me)...

Okay, this post goes in the 'taking a risk' bin but, having read my own post from the other day I'm trying to be brave, face down the dread, and keep it real 'cause these blogs (in my opinion) serve two main functions.

1) They give the blogger an outlet for expression and decompression.  

2) They give the blog reader a chance to 'look in' on someone else's life/journey in order to glean entertainment, inspiration, education, mystification or just plain distraction for a moment popping them out of their moment-by-moment living to give them a 'glimpse' from someone else's 'other side' and that glimpse (under ideal circumstances) gives the reader a little 'lift' or 'thrill' that perhaps they've been needing.

So, it seems like there's almost an unspoken sacred 'pact' between blogger and reader that the blogger will keep it real and the reader will read.  Blogger feels 'heard' and gets decompressed. Reader gets whatever specific thing it was they were looking to get because the blogger took his/hers emotional 'wraps' off for just a second.

(with that kind of preamble you're thinking--crap, what's coming next?)

Well, my old Church is in transition.

I've heard, third-hand, that the man who took over after I left (a good, brilliant--I would dare say--man) is leaving.  I heard in an email.  The person writing me the email just asked if maybe we could connect in and around the time he was going to be in-town for my former associate's last sermon at our Church.

And I was like, "His last WHAT!?"

So ever since (and that was three days ago now) I've been mildly freaking out wondering what's going on, what's going to happen to my friend and former associate and, perhaps most immediately, what's going to happen to (my) Church.

(and it's in brackets 'cause once you plant a Church you always think of it as 'yours' and that's not meant in any kind of possessive way but in the same way you call your child 'yours'--yes, they're their own person, always will be, but you'll always feel a special connection to and care for them...)

And here's where the post gets relevant to what this blog's supposed to be about.

It's a good and painful thing to care about your work.

You plant a Church.  You care about it and about its people.  You make a movie.  You care about its story and the way in which it's going to impact its audience.  You run a TV show.  You care about its staff and talent and hope to high heaven that it connects in some kind of meaningful way with the people who watch it each day.  You have a job.  You care about doing it well and hope that the input you give (no matter how small or large) translates into impact.

Right?

You care.

And the thing about caring is that it comes hand in glove with pain.

The more you care in life the more you're going to hurt.

My heart has been hurting for three days since I heard the news.  I just got a txt from my friend and former associate saying he's been moving and that's why he hasn't called me but that I'm on the list and he'll call soon.  And I, literally, have chest pain waiting for him to call.

And maybe you're thinking I'm an excessively emotional and edgy person--and you'd be right in thinking that--but my sense of it is that to feel deep emotion about the things you have done, are doing, and will do is a pretty good litmus test for whether or not you're doing the thing(s) that you're supposed to be doing.

What's really freaky (and this goes in the 'supernatural' bin, so if that's not quite your 'bag' please just feel free to ignore me here for 'sec...) about all this is that I had a dream a couple months back that my friend and former associate was calling me telling me that he was leaving our Church to move overseas.

Crazy.

So here I am, waiting for a phone call.  Worrying (not too much, but enough) and hoping and praying and caring.

'Cause all good work is worth at least that much.

T

THE DAILY: weekend edition...

So I'm back in business.

(or so they tell me)

Back in front of the camera, which used to be all I did, but is something I haven't done for four years or so.

September 7th a new show I'm hosting and producing hits the airwaves and the ionosphere at www.thedailyweekend.ca.

I will admit to being more than a little nervous that first day walking up to the studio.  Ever since I was a kid I've had this weird thing that happens to me in advance of any big event--I just want to run for the hills.

I remember being scheduled to preach between sets at a Third Day concert back on September 12, 2001 (yes, the day after 9-11) and dreading it so much I was about to puke.  And it wasn't the 12,000 people that were going to be there, or the pressure, or the expectation, or the need to deliver something really spectacular and meaningful.

Nothing that sophisticated...

It was just dread.

I wonder if, deep inside, we're all just basically afraid of being rejected.

That's the thing, see, with being a performer.  Your stock in-trade is putting yourself out there, saying what you feel, from the heart, with all the passion and authenticity you can muster.  And, the thing is, sometimes people love what you have to say and love you for it and other times they hate what you have to say and hate you for it.  This whole 'don't kill the messenger' thing is a load of crap.  

The messenger is always the first one to be killed.

So when you find yourself getting ready to perform there's a good chance you'll want to run.

I've always felt that way.

And I'm here to tell you that you don't grow out of it.  You don't hit this magical 'place' in your career where you're not afraid anymore.  People are never going to stop rejecting you.  You just got to face the fact that not everyone's going to love you and there's nothing you can do about that and if you don't get over your dread, walk into that situation, and 'do' the thing you've been made and called to do, you're going to be miserable.

So pick your poison.

Be afraid of what people are going to think of you to the point that it stops you from doing what you've been called to do and spend your life feeling miserable and non-actualized.

Or...

Realize that people are people, some hate some love, and you can't do a thing to change that so you might as well spend your life doing the thing you were given life to do and the 'haters' can just go ahead and 'hate'.

I can't count the number of times I've had to face up to that one.  Chances are, if you're looking to live a life less ordinary, you will too.  I'm just here to tell you that the dread doesn't go away, even when things are 'looking up' as they say.

So from one frightened soldier to another...

Up and over that hill friend.  Up and over it.

T

The Wife...

I'm a bit obsessed with her y'see?

(and she's going to KILL me for putting this shot of her up for all to see, but seeing as 1) she never reads my blog [an ongoing point of contention] and 2) it is my blog and if your wife controls your life, your mind, your money AND your blog you're doomed; so here I go anyway...)

To say nothing of the fact that to be THAT hot after four kids and not share it with the World is a crime.

But I digress.

We were out on the water Saturday with her Dad and the kids on a pontoon boat that had a water slide.  It was awesome.  Then, on the way back to the marina, she decides to sunbathe a bit and I may look stupid but, as Forest says, "Stupid is as stupid does..." so out comes my camera.

And I'm shooting and shooting and shooting.

Then she realizes what I'm doing.  "Are you taking pictures of me?"  She asks.  "Yes Ma'am.  Yes I am."  And I kept shooting.

Then it hit me that that's what I need to blog about this week.

Being obsessed with your wife.

This works on a couple levels.

1) The 'I used to be a Pastor' level...

So, the level 1 applicability of being obsessed with my hot wife is that you should be obsessed with your wife.  The more you fixate on her, chase her, take risque photos of her, the better off she'll be, the better off you'll be, the better off your marriage will be.  Many men forget the simple truth that it's better to lust after your own wife than after another woman.  So, do what it takes to keep your wife feeling good about herself (which will translate into her looking the part to whatever degree is possible for her...) and fixate on her.

2) The 'I'm a filmmaker and TV producer' level...

So, the level 2 applicability of being obsessed with my wife is that men's drive re: women is unquenchable which means that you need to recognize and write that urge into your work.  We love women, and 'aint never going to stop.  The key, from my perspective, is to write said obsession into our work in a redemptive way.  A way that doesn't objectify said women and reduce our men to animals on the hunt.  There's a beauty and a glory built into the male female relational dynamic and stories that touch on said glory tend to connect on a universal level and that's a good thing in terms of your work so here's my vote for a re-discovery of 'authentic love' in the pop-arts.

3) The 'I'm turning into a baby-motivational speaker so you better make this applicable to more than just pastors and producers' level...

So, the level 3 applicability of being obsessed with my wife is the fact that it reminded me that obsession with what you 'do' is a pretty good sign that you're doing what you've been made to do.  Following that rabbit trail down a bit that means that, if you find yourself daydreaming at work, fantasizing about 'another woman' (meaning another job) you should take steps to leave your job and find your passion.  If, conversely, your day flies by and you never have enough time to do everything you want and you love having that problem and can't wait to get back at it tomorrow, you're probably in your 'career sweet spot'.

So, love your wife, tell love stories, and love your work.

"And that's all I have to say about that..."

T

Tragic...

Horrifyingly so.

We were watching Lolo Jones, the favorite to win the 100 meter hurdles final at the Olympics, pull away from the group.  The 'set up' piece NBC had run prior to the race had us hooked and rooting for her.

Having risen from foster-childhood and challenge after challenge this was to be Lolo's golden moment.  

Then her foot clipped the last hurdle.

The last hurdle.

She didn't fall but the effort to save herself from doing so slowed her down to the point that she ended up finishing seventh.

She should have had gold.

And you could see it on her face as she finished the race.  Total utter horror and despair.  It was hard to watch.  She collapsed on the track and buried her head in her hands.  Later a telephoto lens found her leaned up against the wall in a tunnel under the stadium--in an unguarded moment--weeping as if her heart would break.

There's so much pain in the World.

Niki and I could hardly take it.  We turned the channel.

And I want to comment on it here for a few reasons.

First I just had to 'bear witness' if you know what I mean.  Needed to tell the story to someone, to you, to get it off my heart and out into the open.  Second I wanted to point out two connections from her story that speak--in my opinion--to how one can design story for the screen and how one must design sermons for the pulpit and how you can design your lifestyle in terms of spreading hope to others.

Here's the thing.

The kind of heartbreak Lolo Jones suffered is the stuff of novels.  Readers love the kind of 'rags to riches' story that Lolo has.  The benefit of a book is that you can tell the story internally really examining what the journey was like for her on a deeply personal level.  Those kind of books often turn into arthouse--small--awards season movies.

The reason the movies that come from those books are 'small' is because most people hate to be depressed.  A story of heartbreak that intense would yield a 'down ending' sure to leave your average movie-goer down in the dumps and most people don't go to movies to get depressed; most people go to the movies to be uplifted.

If the ending to a story like that included a second chance at redemption or at the very least the beginnings of a second chance--like we end the film on her showing up to the training facility to get back at it, preparing for her next Olympic shot, well then that kind of ending wouldn't induce instant wrist slitting.

So in our filmmaking we need to remember the power and risk of deeply tragic stories and make our choices well re: how we finesse the ending.

With the pulpit, I think the imperative is a straight one-two punch.  On the one hand you don't shy away from the abject sadness of it all.  You embrace the tragic component with open arms. Life is tragic and one of the problems with pop-faith is that it tends to gloss over the deeply depressing aspects of our existence.  Authentic preaching must not do this.  Authentic preaching must mourn.

Then, with tears, authentic preaching must point to hope.

The 'second chance at redemption' story must be told.  The light shone in the dark.

'Cause people don't come to Church looking to get depressed.  Most people come to Church (if at all) because they want the (honest) truth and they want to be uplifted.

Sorrow and hope.

Our stock in trade.

T

The man is back...

That would be me.

"Oh so humble Mr. Cantelon..."

(yeah, yeah...)

Not, 'The Man' like "I'M THE MAN" just 'The Man' like I'm a man who's back.

On TV.

Pretty cool.

Shot the first thirteen episodes of 'THE DAILY: weekend edition' which is a weekly talk-television series I'll be producing/hosting starting September 7th, 2008.  We'll follow '60 Minutes' on Sunday nights, which is a pretty huge lead-in, and take a look at one of the issues featured on 60M except that we'll examine the issue from the spiritual side of life.

We had some pretty high profile guests this past week including the former Minster of Finance.  

The most fun I had was Thursday when I got to shoot all the wraparounds, the openers, transitions, closers etc.  Basically, I got to stand in front of the camera and do one of the things I do best...

Talk.

Pretty exhausting stuff though. See, I'd underestimated the time it'd take to write the shows and so found myself at the desk at 7:ooam Thursday writing straight through 'till 3:00pm when I raced into the studio, got made up, and started shooting.

Straight through 'till midnight.  

After two days previous of filming and writing 18-hours a day and a week before that racing the clock to get ready and two weeks before that racing the clock to re-write a script (that I just got back from my editor RIPPED to shreds...).

I will say that the crew had some kind things to say about what I was doing.  It was quite humbling to get feedback like that.  See, it's been a while since last I stood in front of the camera--2004 in fact.  So, to find that I still 'had it' to some small degree was very relieving.

Also, it was cool to be back 'speaking' to an audience.

I don't talk about it much but I do miss preaching.  I've been settling into a place of honesty where I'm slowly embracing who I am and what I do.

I'm a husband, father, communicator.

I always knew this, I've just been finding that I'm settling into my role as husband and daddy more than I ever thought possible.  I've always really loved my wife and loved being married but will admit that transitioning from 'happy go lucky newlywed with no kids' to the world of Daddy-dom was more than a little shocking.

Eight years later and I feel like I've really settled in.

And with the communicator thing, I'm turning the facets of that over and over in my mind as I fly between the coasts seeking to find the honest truth about who I am and what--specifically--I'm meant to do.  (Preacher? Writer? Producer? Director? Actor/Host? Motivational speaker? What kind of 'mix' of all six?)  The whole 'your days as a preacher weren't a waste-of-time and you still have plenty of time to make-it in showbiz despite your Church-detour..' conversation is one I will admit to hearing in my head on a regular basis.

(and I'm aware of the 'there is no waste' Kingdom-economy thing and don't really mean 'detour' but I will admit the phrase occurs in my head by times...)

See, you think you're someone or something, and the things you think are loaded with baggage. Expectation, the need for approval, the pressure of what you've always done, peer pressure, what brings you money, etc.

The key is to shine the light of suffering and joy and experience on that 'thing' you've been called to do and see what winks back at you.  Then you look at that spark and see what kind of fire it ignites. Then you see if you can't roast some hot dogs over it and feed 'em to your kids.

Point.

Is what you do the 'thing' you're meant to do, and if it is, to what degree?  At what percentage of 'optimum' are you operating?

I don't think you ever hit 100% but the idea, I think, is to get closer and closer as you age. The goal being that as you get near 65 or so you should be 'expert' at your craft.

(it's, of course, right around then that most people up and retire, but my sense is that retirement is for dead people, so whooha to getting, being, and staying expert...)

Each step is a good step.

Anyway, I'm feeling deeply grateful to have another shot (this is my third time around with my own TV series) and with more resources to hand than I've EVER had before. In fact, I'm sitting in the studio right now blogging while my staff shoots one of the series I'm in charge of.  I'm supposed to be writing tomorrow's episodes--which I'll get to after this--but I figured before that I'd eat some fried chicken (yup' we've got a whole u-shaped table stocked with food outside the control room...) sit on the floor a bit and watch my hosts work, then head back here, write for you a bit, then get to back to work.

One profoundly thankful man back at it and hopefully for a good ten-year run or so this time.

T

Of street-people and Angels...

Because he was either a bum or an Angel...

I was walking 'home' (or back to my hotel in downtown Vancouver) after my traditional first-morning in 'lonely city' walk to breakfast and the port.  I love to see the cruise ships and the people.  I marvel at the technology of it all--designed to whisk the people away to another World for the space of a week or more.  

All of us trading dollars for life.

(or the semblance of it-- a life 'other' than the one to which we've resigned ourselves)

So I walk, always astounded at all the people and all their stories so unknown to me.  "Who are they?" I wonder.  What have been their dreams?  How are they faring?  How do I look to them, all purposeful and astride alone on a morning two thousand miles from my family?

Then I turn my back to the sea and the crafts that take my peers out upon it and walk.

Back home.

And there he was, waiting for me.  This city is rife with them.  It seems like they stalk every corner, looking for you to make eye contact so they can ask you for money.

On my Sunday walk I often meet an old man who sits down by the port on the steps of the Armani building looking up with puppy dog eyes ill at ease in his seventy-year old face. I've fallen gently in pity with him and set aside a few dollars in my pocket when I set out each Sunday just in case he's there. 

He hasn't been these past two times.  

I wondered today if he's died or perhaps returned home.

He could be an Angel.

The one waiting outside my Hotel today certainly didn't look like one.  He had the rotted teeth of the heroin addict.

(I wondered if he truly no longer 'knows' that we can spot it on him?)

Pretending to be an Aussie picked up and incarcerated for hitchhiking he told me, with tears, that if he didn't get $24 for a bus ride back up to Whistler he'd lose his daughter to foster care and be thrown back in jail for 14 weeks.  He said he had documents up in Whistler that the police told him he had to go get and bring back with him to Vancouver to avoid being arrested that fateful second time.

He was clearly lying to me.

And it's the strangest thing to stand face to face with someone knowing they're lying to you; all the while carrying on a debate in my head; should I call him out on it or not?  Should I tell him of all the times I've had others like him tell me tales like him in the hopes that I might be one of the softhearted ones who yield and give?

Liar.

And in the calloused moments I think to myself how hard I have to work to earn the money I'm given.  Why should I give it to him?  Why does he 'deserve' a handout?  Especially when all the signs point to the fact that my giving it to him won't beget a bus ride up the mountains but a trip of another kind--one that is slowly killing him, turning him into something less than human along the way.

Man.

But see, I remember Abraham.  Remember that he made dinner for three strangers. Remember that they were Angels and that we're told that sort of thing is less uncommon than we might think.

(yes, I believe the fairy tales...)

And I also remember that this faith I hold to so tenuously these days (it holds to me I know) tells me that when someone in need asks me for something I ought not to refuse them.

Jesus taught me that.

But I'm conflicted, 'cause the dude's a heroin addict.  He tells me he'll drop the money back at the Hotel tomorrow, not 'cause I asked for it but "Out of respect man.  Out of respect..." 

And I want to scream at him--

"Cut the bullshit man!  My sense of it is my money's going to disappear into your veins.  You won't remember me past ten minutes from now.  All I did was look at you and nod to acknowledge our shared humanity and now you've roped me into this.  Don't talk to me about respect..."

But maybe Jesus will.

(remember)

"Whatever you do unto the least of these my bretheren, you do unto Me..."

God.

So, I walked inside and I wrote him a letter on Hotel stationary and I put $21 (he already had $3) in an envelope with the letter telling him that I thought he was lying to me but that if he wasn't I ask his forgiveness.  I told him that, if he was telling me the truth, a note would be more than repayment enough.  A note telling me what it was like to be re-united with his daughter because a stranger thought that maybe, just maybe he was an Angel not a heroin addict.

Ya' think?

Could it be?

Could it be, Lord?

I don't know.  Probably won't ever.

I do know that I'm deeply saddened now--as if being away from my wife and babies isn't bad enough, I had to have THAT experience today.

Sorrow on sorrow.

(what kind of sorrow has he known?)

And I feel a screenplay coming on because of it.  About a guy who meets a heroin addict who turns out to be an Angel.  Then later that day, when the World starts crumbling around them both, the Angel returns the favor and saves the guy because the guy saved him.  Maybe the Angel was addicted to heroin 'cause maybe he was a fallen Angel and the sorrow of his banishment was too much to bear.  Maybe we've gotten it wrong about demons.  Maybe they're not bestial, maybe they live among us as the broken and deranged.

Like the conceit from "Men in Black" turned on its head.

There's a story there I think.

(and maybe the guy doesn't remember he used to be an Angel 'cause he's been fallen so long he's forgotten...and maybe he remembers it only when the two of them are about to die and the addict discovers that he can fly, and maybe he flies the both of them up to a city that's waiting in the sky and maybe there they bow before a being who heals and restores them both--the man back into the image in which he was made, the Angel back into the creature of light he was made to be...)

A story about mercy casually given with eternal result.

I'd go see that movie.

And then I sealed the envelop and didn't know what to write on it.  I thought about it a moment then wrote, "Michael".

For the Angels.

(crap, and now I'm crying...)

T

One of my new ventures...

So let's see how this goes.

(and, by the way, the tagline--since you can't see it--is: REAL PEOPLE.  REAL SEX.  REAL CHRISTIAN)

I mean what's the point of being a producer with a blog if you can't 'test-drive' your ideas, right?

(and just let me say how mortified my wife is by this idea and by the fact that I've got a blog 

that people actually read which means people are actually going to see this...)

Take a deep breath Niki...

www.christiansex.ca

Is one of my new ventures.

The idea had a simple beginning.

We were doing marriage counseling for a couple in our Church and as part of that session we got to my favorite part--the part about sex.  I found it endlessly fascinating how these peers of mine, folks--like me--raised in a 'sex saturated' society would almost alway get all nervous and skittish when the 'sex talk' came around.

I mean it's not like they didn't think about it.  It's not like (many of them) weren't already having it.  It's not like they didn't want to talk about it.

They just never had.

(at least not in an honestly, openly, non-judgmentally Christian context...)

See, many (if not most) of them were raised by parents who NEVER talked about sex. As a consequence everything they learned about sex they learned from friends and from porn and from trial and error in their teens.

So, back to the couple.

The girl wants to ask a question.  Is real nervous about it.  Won't come out with it until we press her a bit.  Finally she asks the question that's been bugging her...

"Umm, well--ahh.  You know, uhh--what, umm, happens to the--err--'you know'...once you're--ahh...done?"

So painful.

My wife (who's horrified that I'm telling you this) looks her in the eye.

"It drips out of you.  Sometimes for days."

See?

Half o' y'all's bums just went tight and half o' y'all just went; "Exactly!  Why didn't anyone ever tell me that?"

See?

So I had this epiphany the other day while reading the trades.  The article was about the relentless migration of advertising dollars to the internet and I just realized that so much of the work I'm specialized at doing doesn't require a mainstream 'Broadcaster' now that the internet has virtually replaced it (at least for many of our peers).

I mean, Niki and I are pretty 'typical'.  We get the kids to bed.  We put our PJ's on.  We sit downstairs with CNN on in the background and our laptops on our respective laps.  Most of the cutting edge or really interesting stuff we watch, we watch online.

And the reaction to my blog lately and to the site for one of the TV shows I produce is demonstrating to me that I, yea even I, can generate traffic.

Imagine if your domain was christiansex.ca and the content on there was candid interviews like the ones from 'When Harry Met Sally' except that it was all about sex.  Great sex.  Honest sex. Real sex.  

Christian sex.

And imagine if the site was produced by an entertainment company and for entertainment/inspirational purposes and didn't have one particular denominational or dogmatic axe to grind but rather existed simply to inject an honest, healthy, passionate, funny, Christian perspective into the sexuality out there on the web.

Almost every other 'christiansex' extension is a porn site.  Mine will be the only one that's not.

Pretty cool right?

So, I'm looking for reaction.  I'd love to hear what you think.  I'd LOVE (if you're willing) for you to let your social networks know about this post (if you don't mind--I realize that's asking a lot...) to see if I can get some significant feedback.  I'm looking for Christian couples to do the interviews and I'm planning to share revenue with them.  I'm going to start branding and grassroots marketing very soon.

I thought that some of you might want to help.

Hit me.

(no, not Niki.  You.  And with your thoughts, reactions, suggestions...)

Thanks, for real.

T

Me 'n the girls...

So here's who I spent my weekend with (two weekends ago...)

Pretty nice, right?

(Oh, and with ten, count 'em, rugrats too)

And here's the thing and the reason for the post.

I was the only dude there.

Can you believe that?

I don't get it.  It's the same thing every year.  We get invited back to the cottage (one of Niki's highschool friends) and we're told 'the girls' are coming.  Every year I ask, "Any of the dudes coming?"  Every year I'm the only one.

The only guy with four girls for the weekend--in bikinis.

(not me...them)

And I'm like 'are they stupid or something'?

(not the girls...the guys)

'Course, I know they're not and the 'dudes' in question are friends of mine so I know that they're typically working hard enough that they can't get away.  But I'll be straight up and say that I wonder if sometimes they don't come 'cause the thought of spending a few days with nothin' but girls and kids around 'aint exactly their cup 'o tea.

And remember these are my friends I'm talking about, so I'm not 'hating' I'm just wondering out loud (for the sake of my 'ever growing audience'--just wait 'till my new TV show hits September 7th...) if they hesitate a second because of the company.

'Cause I know it's true of some guys that they don't exactly like girls.

I've always like girls.

Since I was little.  I've always gotten along real well with the 'gentler' set.  I like how they look, I like how they think, I like how they socialize, I like makin' 'em happy, I like listening to 'em talk.

I like girls.

And... 

(here's where we get 'post worthy' I hope)

I wonder if some filmmakers and some pastors don't.

Seriously.

A know a lot of Churches that are pastored by guys who are 'dudes'.  'Dudes' to the point that they seem to not 'like' women.  And I'm not looking to get into theology arguments about gender-roles etc. here, I'm just thinking that if you don't have a genuine affection for the people you pastor, there might be an impact in the things you choose to do and not to do and the manner in which you do them.

(and I'm not 'saying' they don't like women--I'm saying it can sometimes 'seem' that way and in show business [and yes I class both industries in that category] perception is reality...)

Same for filmmakers.

I read somewhere once that a good 'director' needs to be equally in-touch with him feminine and masculine sides (and I'm not looking to get into any sociology arguments about gender-equity here...) meaning he needs to be able to (on the masculine side) 'command' his crew, demand performance etc. while being able to (at the same time and on the feminine side) connect on a deeply empathic and emotional level with his actors for the sake of performance.

The same is true of screenwriting or sermonizing.

You have to be able to get 'inside the head' of your characters and your audience.  And, chances are, some of your characters and 50% of your audience is/are female.

And what do you do if you don't 'like' women?

I think you create stilted art and build stilted Churches.

And how 'bout if you're neither a filmmaker nor a preacher/pastor?

Well, guaranteed, you work with men and women.  Guaranteed you socialize with men and women.  If you're in a relationship you're in constant contact with a man or a woman.  If you have kids they're gonna' be men or women some day.

And I'm thinking that if you can find a way to develop a genuine interest in and affection for the men and women in your life you'll find yourself more richly connected to the World around you and its created order and I'm betting that'll make you more effective at what you do.

'Cause it 'aint right to leave me alone with the chicks.

It 'aint right.

But it's fun.

So have more fun and do better work.  Go find some chicks and hang with 'em a bit.

T

The late night re-write...

So it's 2:25am ET as I sit to write this.  I've been at my desk for 15 hours--straight.

I'm not going to write much 'cause I've been doing so much writing the last couple weeks my forearms are sore.

Sore from re-writing.

My latest script.  A huge adventure-film.  A script that my rep is going to take out 'wide' within the month.  One of the bigs has already asked for it but he's going to go out to all eight (plus some others) at once.

It's worth noting that I've been working on this one script for nigh on four years now.  Today's re-write was the fourth draft.  I wrote 'fade out', walked out to the rec room to tell the wife, "I'm finished..." I said "For the fourth time..."

She rolled her eyes.

"I just can't believe how LONG this takes..." said she.

And she's right.

'Cause with this script (once it's good and done for real) I'll have my first real 'shot' at Hollywood.  This will be the first time I've gotten 'reads' at the highest level.  This is something I set out to do back in 2002--when I started teaching myself (with the help of many teachers) how to be a screenwriter.

Get read at the highest level.

It's pretty cool.  But a dang long process.

Not so scary, 'cause six years and six feature-length scripts later (plus twelve re-writes) I'm hoping that I'm beginning to 'get' the hang of this.

Otherwise I'm hopelessly insane.

So, to all you hopeless dreamers out there slogging away at pursuing your dream may I just remind you (and me) that it takes years and thousands of hours (many of them obscene) to get where you're going.

And none of it is 'wasted time'.

We don't believe in wasted time, we dreamers.

T