A Big Life: Encouragement for People in the Arts –
Last Monday, someone stole my bike.
It happened in the Hawthorne District outside the Bagdad Theatre Backstage Café while I was in my screenwriting class.
On the night it was stolen, I reported it to the police, who asked the model and the brand, which I was too upset to remember, and the serial number, which I didn’t have.
What an idiot I am, I thought.
When I told my friends, they were gentle. They said things like I should get a better lock, that maybe the other person who took it was hurting and needed the bike more than me, that I shouldn’t let it destroy my peace, that I needed to get over it and let it go.
I agreed. Intellectually. But what I wanted them to say first was, “I’m so sorry. Wrong was done to you. Please cry. I am here.”
We were trying to skip some steps.
Lately I have had writer’s block.
It is a foreign place to be for someone who in a year’s time finished a full length play, a television pilot and myriad short stories. I’ve been pushing hard, but I just can’t seem to shove myself back into that euphoric “zone” again.
Yet writing isn’t just about wringing words out of the fingers. Writing involves thinking, feeling, processing, reveling, and fantasizing. We can’t skip those steps.
In writing an encouragement blog, I sometimes find that I skirt the more painful emotions of life. I want people to get on with the healing. I want myself to get on with it. But life is painful. Wrongs are done to me and to you. When they are, it’s okay for us to rant, breathe, feel, forgive others and ourselves and when we’re ready, let the wrongs go.
I am not an idiot.
By the way, if anyone sees my bike, it’s purple.