It seems impossible that my cohort is turning 50, and yet, there it is.

I’m sliding into it myself—just three years and change to go. Truth be told, I can’t wait: my 40s were so much better than my 30s, which were so much better than my 20s, which were so much better than my teens, I figure my 50s are going to rock the house.

Or, at the very least, that I’ll get another decade or two of yum before I hit the point of diminishing returns.

On the other hand, it’s a good thing I’ve some time. Half a century is a significant achievement, and calls for a marker of equal significance. I received one such tribute about a week ago, from my friend and former art director, Kevin Houlihan. He assembled 50 of the people he’d met along the way, from the godmother who held him at his baptism to a friend he met in a bar about a year ago, and asked us each to write a little something for a book he wanted to assemble about the people he’d met along the way.

Here’s the beauty part, though: instead of asking us to write about him, he asked us to write about ourselves. His point? That, as his wise and no-nonsense New Hampshire-bred father used to say, “You can tell a man by the company he keeps.” So Kevin sent each participant a series of questions designed to help us unearth what it was about us that had helped him learn about himself.

The result? A breathtaking compendium of musings, stories and yes, a little haranguing, that is universally appealing because of the specificity of approach. I’m forever parroting every English teacher I’ve ever had about the key to great writing lying in the detail of the personal truth one lays out there; maybe instead of yakking, I could just direct people to this book.

Unfortunately, it’s a private publishing of 50—one for each participant. There has been a groundswell of support for a more public release, but until that happens, you’ll just have to content yourself with one of my entries and imagine the rest. The question to me was what, if anything, did the various & sundry creative outlets for my expression have in common, and how did I continue to nurture my creativity.

It’s a wonderful question for anyone to ask of themselves, or of their loved ones; it’s a glorious question to be asked…

xxx
c

***

I have called my life many things in an attempt to get across the idea of what it’s been like to live it—to express the heart of my journey. One of my fave-raves, coined several years ago upon quitting my Hateful Advertising Career, was that I was “Living My Life Backwards”: going from a hyper-responsible, overachieving, 401K-building, condo-and-cat-owning twentysomething to a foolhardy, largely unemployed, dream-chasing thirtysomething. (And then a sex-crazed, metaphorically-old-purple-wearing-lady fortysomething.)

Not a bad quip—you know us copywriters, always with the handy quip—but somehow too…pithy. As Einstein said, Everything as simple as possible and no simpler, please. (As an aside, that’s where a lot of advertising and marketing goes off the rails: oversimplification. That, and too many objectives. But let’s not go down that bad path, shall we?)

I wish I had a pithy answer for my life’s work now—for what motivates me, for what the thread is. But I don’t. I have a long and boring story, which I’ll summarize here:

Many years ago, when The Groundlings Sunday Company pulled over and dumped my baby-actor soul by the side of the road to fend for itself, I thought I needed a theater company to call home. And so it was that I found myself standing on a stage in a tiny, back-alley theater in Santa Monica in front of an insane French woman (sorry—redundant), “auditioning” to be a paying member of her highly experimental theater company.

She let me perform my wildly inappropriate monologue, but it was clear that what she wanted to do was get to the Q&A.

“What would you do,” she called out from the dark, “eef I asked you to take off your pants, take off your shirt, take off your shoes and stand zere nakeed on ze stage?”

“Uh…ask you why?”

There was a long pause. Then, whether to out me as a poseur or to see if maybe, possibly she could salvage this ten minutes and put an extra $35/month in the theater’s coffers I don’t know, but she threw out another one:

“Why,” she called out again, “do you want to be an actress?”

No one had asked me this; I had not even asked myself about the why. Why does one throw away everything with no promise of a something down the road? Why does a sane, smart girl with a career and a title and a condo and a cat toss it all out the window for what younger and more talented people will tell you is one of the world’s worst career options?

I stood in on that dusty stage, lit from above, threw head back and my arms open wide and let whatever it was inside me that had been responsible for my irrational decision do the talking:

“To tell The Truth!!!”

It was right, that Voice. (It always is, you know.) My whole life until then had been a quest to funnel The Truth as it is writ large somewhere in the cosmos into words and pictures that made sense down here. So I did it for awhile in advertising. And then in acting. And then in design. And now, with words, both on the blog and aloud, wherever someone will let me.

If I get off track, it gets me back on. If I need inspiration, I go back to the well.

The Truth.

I mean, come on—can that ever get old?

TOPICS: acting, art, creativity, truth.

I was going to sit down and talk about how hard the past week was…how draining.

And it was, in its way. For whatever reason, there was an abundance of drama over the past eight days—the missed deadlines, botched communication and general fakakta-ness that seems to accompany Mercury going retrograde. (I wonder, could things have been this messed up before I knew about such silly nonsense?)

There was also a paucity of rest. Social engagements out the wazoo, back-to-back, every day but one. Not light-hearted ones: thinking ones. Emotionally draining ones. Ones that required attention, a lot of driving, or both.

Like my ex-husband’s wedding reception, where I was the surprise guest to a raft of folk who hadn’t seen me since I lost them in the divorce eight years ago (let it never be said that my ex doesn’t have a wicked sense of humor…or his new bride, for that matter). Like dinner with the one friend of my dad’s who stood by my sister and me in the ugly, ugly aftermath of his death. Most devastatingly, like the memorial service for a brilliant 26-year-old artist who was stolen from the world too soon. It took three beers, The BF and a Harold Lloyd flick to talk me down from that last night.

I want to run and hide when it gets like this. I want to live in a place where it rains a lot and gets dark early—where I can bundle myself up in a scruffy, fluffy sweater and read books on the sofa with a bottomless mug of peppermint tea. Instead, I live in an overbuilt parking lot with fires breaking out at each end, wearing boxers against the heat and earplugs against the noise. And I have no upholstered furniture. Still.

Fret not, however, for in the midst of all this mishigoss, I am, bizarrely enough, happier than ever. There is work work work and feeling like you do not make a difference, and there is the other kind; right now, and for some time, I feel like I’ve been living the other kind. It’s exhausting, but wonderful. Not particularly lucrative, even, but wonderful. I never felt this way after a day of wrangling copy. Never. Not once. And I did that for 10 years and a lot of money.

Still, this schedule is a brutal one to maintain, and something has to give. It’s kind of been my health, which has to stop, and it’s definitely been my “optional” writing, which also has to stop.

It’s the optional-type writing, you see, that’s made all this possible. I’m starting to get it now. So it really isn’t optional at all for the life I want to live.

People: create. Make things. Think things and write them down, or tell them, or draw them. Note things and mull them over (or not) and pass them along (for sure.) When I get bone-tired like this, I can feel the pull to buy. It’s odd; I feel it. Possibly other people feel the pull to watch TV (I used to feel that, although I’d never give it my full attention) or to play games. Consuming isn’t inherently evil, but it leaves you more empty than full.

Tonight I made a (SCD-legal) pizza and this post. It was all I could muster after a long day of pushing pixels. But that pizza tasted better than anything I could get delivered.

And this post? Even better than that…

xxx
c

Image by Sidereal–who is rapidly becoming a communicatrix staple, it seems–via Flickr, used under a Creative Commons license.

TOPICS: creativity, happiness, life, truth.

There are lots of tools the great actor has in her toolbox, but most of them really only gain utility with time. Script analysis, the ability to quickly access one’s emotions, physical flexibility, vocal projection—even memorizing lots and lots of text is a skill that can take years to learn.

But there is one tool that is pretty easy to use right out of the box: the character checklist. Exactly what it sounds like, the character checklist is a list of questions that, when answered thoughtfully, provide a wealth of information for the actor to draw from.

Writers stand to gain much from the character checklist as well. For the fiction writer, it’s a terrific way to sketch out a full picture of the character in your mind before writing, or even (oh yes) when you find yourself stuck. Let’s face it: most characters in fiction draw heavily on slices of the writer’s self; it’s nice to have a few other things to flesh them out into full-fledged bona fides themselves.

But another great use for the character checklist is to jump-start your own non-fiction writing. Bloggers have embraced the meme in a big way; it’s everyone’s favorite crutch when the well runs dry.

And pre-Web 2.0, the form was equally popular. From the emails that circulate with lists of likes, dislikes and quirky questions to fill in and forward on to the venerable Proust Questionnaire, people are endlessly fascinated with…themselves, yes, but other people, too. My favorite features in glossy magazines are usually the ones where the same five, 10 or 20 questions are asked of different people.

There are probably as many of these character checklists circulating among acting classes as there are memes proliferating across the blogosphere. I dug this one out of my old actor files, and it’s as good a place as any to start:

The Character Checklist from Colleen’s Old Acting Files (provenance unknown)

1. Name
2. Age
3. Occupation
4. Hobbies
5. Marital Status
6. Favorite Color
7. Favorite Restaurant
8. Favorite Song
9. Favorite Movie
10. Favorite TV Show
11. Pet
12. Bad Habit
13. What I Like About Myself
14. Who I Look Up To
15. What Makes Me Laugh
16. What Makes Me Sad
17. How Do I Relax
18. What Word/Phrase Do I Use Most Often
19. Favorite Room In Home
20. Goals
21. Embarrassing Moment
22. Favorite Article Of Clothing
23. Pet Peeve
24. People Close To Me
25. One Word To Describe Me
26. Favorite Holiday
27. What Is Important To Me
28. What I Can’t Do Without

The trick to making lists like these useful to your writing (and there’s always a trick) is using them thoughtfully and strategically, not just indulging in them as diversions (although that can be fun sometimes, too). Figure out the task you’re wanting to accomplish and then pick up your tool. Not all of the items will be useful for every piece of writing you’re sitting down to work on, but a surprising number will be, if you let mind wander to new and interesting places.

For example, let’s say you’ve got a blog edumacating people about widgets and you are plumb out of widget stuff to write about. You could…

• Talk about how people shorten the life of their widgets with bad widget habits. (#12)
• Describe your favorite widget use, and why. (#28)
• Relate a horror story about a customer being widget-less in a widget-necessary situation. (#21)
• Interview a few people in the widget chain of supply. (#24)
• Link to your favorite widget scene in a movie on YouTube. (#9)

There’s no set way to put yourself in a frame of mind to see questions differently so that you can answer them differently, but one great trick is to imagine yourself sitting down with someone who knows nothing about widgets, or who thinks they know everything about widgets, and then look at those questions as though you’re being interviewed for a show or podcast or magazine that goes out to that target.

In other words—playact…like an actor!

xxx
c

P.S. If you give this a whirl, I’d love to hear how it works for you: communicatrix [at] gmail [dot] com.

Image by welcome_to_nunavik via Flickr, used under a Creative Commons license.

This post gets a lot of traffic from StumbleUpon. Go figure. Anyway, if you clicked looking to find posts about acting, there are a ton of them here—two years’ worth of columns written for a major casting service’s newsletter here in L.A. And if you’re looking for more tips on writing and how to make it more awesome and less awful, check out the back issues of my non-sucky (I swear!) newsletter. Back to you, Chet!

TOPICS: communicating, creativity, List-o-rama!, Tools of Goodness.

I’ve been working on a super-secret web project for an interesting, celebrity client who is using her high profile in the real world for, as I like to say, the powers of Good and not Evil—something I always try to support here at communicatrix-dot-com.

Hell, that’s kind of my modus operandi for life in general.

Anyway, eventually, everyone and his brother will be able to participate just by going to a good, old-fashioned URL. But for launch, we want to have some coolio stuff ready to go. I told my client that I have the most interesting, fearless readers in the world—and hey, counting the readers of readers, that’s probably close to true—so I’d put the word out here.

We’re still working out the copyright issue, because ultimately, there may be enough cool stories to warrant a compilation in book form, which she’d like to be able to do. But for now, let’s say that there will be a rider there where you can opt-in if you’d like to be included in the book, and opt-out if, for some reason, you wouldn’t. Either way, everyone retains copyright of his or her material, meaning you’re free to do whatever the hell else you want with it.

In other words, she ain’t looking to get rich off us chumps; she’s doing fine in that department. She’s just really, really into stories.

And that’s what the site is about: everyone’s stories. Because as someone who’s walked longtime amongst the rich and famous (and the starving artists and regular people before then), she knows that “famous” does not necessarily mean “has better story.”

So here are the topics she’s looking for essays on now:

1. “Most inexplicable fling or crush” (you know—that one you’re, like, WHAT THE HELL?!?! after it passes)
2. “New passions or obsessions, however fleeting” (she mentioned a new and strange love of watching Sunday golf on TV, even though she hates golf and has no desire to learn to play)
3. “Regrets” (big, little, whatever)
4. “Most memorable high school dance” (could be prom…although not for me…)
5. “In what ways are you a weenie” (uh…yeah. 500 words probably isn’t enough for me)
6. UPDATE: “Favorite space you’ve ever lived in, and why”

Each story should be on ONE of the topics (i.e., don’t combine your crush with your prom story, or at least not as though people will get that there is more than one topic; each story should stand alone).

Also, if you want to play, they should be:

• around 500 words, max
• personal (i.e., about your experience)
• p0rn-free (or really, really hilarious)

Other than that, she’s wide open. Site should go live June 1, god willin’ and the creek don’t rise. If you’re totally freaked by sending your precious words to me like this, I can give you more details, but you’ll be sworn to secrecy and if you blab, you will be SO uninvited to my birthday party.

E-MAIL STORIES TO ME, PLEASE, AT communicatrix-at-gmail-dot-com

Let’s say by…May 18. (Don’t want to drive the developer batty, esp. since he’s The BF.)

Don’t worry if you’re a great writer, a medium writer, or not-a writer. Although I believe there’s no such thing: we’re all storytellers somehow, and if you don’t believe me, you don’t listen to StoryCorps enough.

Or read this blog enough, for that matter…

xxx
c

Image by grana (aka. crazypuccia) via Flickr, used under a Creative Commons license.

TOPICS: communicating, creativity, Shameless plugs, work.

I’m back from a three-day spree in the desert. Usually, these trips involve prodigious amounts of whooping it up; this time, it was me and 200 of my new-best nerd friends, hanging out, talking shop about…talking.

I might get around to talking about talking (or speaking, as they call it) more at a later date. In fact, I’m doing a debrief of TalkFest 2006 over at The Marketing Mix tomorrow, in case you want to hear about me and the nerds (and I say that with the greatest affection: me LOVE nerds).

The short of it is two things: the more I do, the more I realize I am the only one who can do it. (I might also be the only one interested in me doing it, but that’s another story.) Only me, only you—that whole Martha Graham/quickening thing.

And the more I do, the more I get excited about doing more. More transactions. More ideas put out into the marketplace. More love, more fun, more craziness, more risks, albeit more of the kind that will put me somewhere interesting, not in the hospital.

Anyway. For what it’s worth.

Oh—and one more thing: the more time I spend with him, the more I am blown away by the unparallelled awesomeness of The BF. He went above and beyond the call this weekend, was delightful to all, helped me enormously by contributing his time and prodigious skillz for nothing and added a thousandfold to my enjoyment of the proceedings.

A lucky, lucky way to kick off Birthday Week…

xxx
c

P.S. No I haven’t forgotten Cleaning My Damned Apartment. And in case I had, the dirt decided to throw a party and invite the extended family. Oy. Happy Birthday Week to me…

Image by The BF, who takes one nice picture no matter which side of the camera he’s on

TOPICS: creativity.