Like a writer after all – Kelley Eskridge

Robin and I are having an interesting conversation over in “Multitudes,” and she asked:

What is it like to be you today?

Well, here’s what it is. I have been nose-to-the-grindstone-focused on my new business project for several weeks now, and it’s starting to get to me. I will tell you all about it very shortly. It’s a cool project, cool enough that I’m a little worried it will change my life in ways that I’m not sure I want or am ready for. Or maybe it won’t. It’s hard to know. So it’s exciting…

…but it’s not creative. Or at least not the particular kind of creative I need to keep the channel open inside me, that passage to the deep places of myself. When I do the kind of work I’m involved in right now, I become microscopically focused on the details of what must be done. I line them up and knock them down. And when I pull my focus back, I don’t find myself tired-but-fizzing with work well done, bright with some new life lived for those hours. I just find myself tired.

And so last night I ate an entire 11″ South Philly with spinach after-bake pizza all by myself, drank a little too much beer, didn’t sleep that well, got up thinking I would get back to work on the project…

… and found myself doing this instead.

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FADE IN…

Onto a small-town commercial street at dusk… as a pirate runs shrieking from a hardware store, chased by a princess with a sword.

GO WIDER: Other kids in costumes. Parents chatting. College youth sauntering into bars. Halloween is in full swing in a small college town.

ENGINES GROWL as two motorcycles turn onto the street. Both RIDERS wear battered leathers and full-face helmets.

The locals stare. RIDER #1 stares back, invisible through the black-glass visor. RIDER #2 gives the little princess a wave.

They park outside a hotel next to a bar, Rider #1 with visible reluctance. Engines OFF.

Rider #1 begins to pull off the helmet…

EXT. HOTEL – DAY (DUSK) – CONTINUOUS

Several DRUNK COLLEGE STUDENTS have paused outside the bar. One girl gives the bikes — and the Riders — an appreciative look. Her boyfriend tugs her against him possessively as Rider #1’s helmet comes off —

— and reveals a woman. RAE DONOVAN, 40’s, a little detached, a lot tough. Always on alert.

The college girl looks confused. The boys react predictably to a woman in leather. Rae gives them a dismissive stare.

Behind Rae, Rider #2 removes the helmet. She is STELLA DONOVAN, early to mid-60’s. No Botox, no surgery, just strong and sexy straight out of the box.

Stella gives Rae an impatient look. Rae grabs a bag from the back of her bike and stalks grimly toward the hotel entrance. As Stella follows —

DRUNK COLLEGE BOY
Yow! Bring it, granny!

STELLA
I’m not your fuckin’ granny.

RAE
(doesn’t look back)
Mom.

The college students jostle each other as Rae and Stella enter the hotel.
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What’s it like to be me today? A little bit more like being a writer. And that feels good. And it turns out that western civilization didn’t end just because I took my eye off my other project for a couple of hours.

Thanks for asking!

Formatted using the extremely cool Scrippets plugin.

5 thoughts on “Like a writer after all”

If I pick out the Italian sausage, that South Philly pizza with spinach starts tasting like comfort.

“[…] cool enough that Iâm a little worried it will change my life in ways that Iâm not sure I want or am ready for.” I’m also a little worried. But I’ll try not to. I believe I can be—if I’m not already—enough of a pest to always succeed at annoying you into writing more short stories for me to translate.

I can also relate to the I just find myself tired feeling of that other type of work. Writing has a self-winding mechanism. The project you’re on right now is a straight line. Sometimes uphill, other downhill, or even like a freeway. You just keep going and try to stop only when you absolutely nee to rest or pee or whatever. No self-winding. No tired-but-fizzing. No new life. Just tired. And maybe also with a fat bank account. It’s still rewarding, but in a different way.

I’m glad you wrote about the Donovans today. I’m grateful that being you today feels like a writer after all.

It’s crossed my mind to be worried about how “it” might change your life too. But then I started thinking that you’ll get it rolling, and then find the perfect person – easily trained – to handle most of it for you.

Western Civilization doesn’t end when you make a little time for your writing; it/we are enriched. And I’m guessing that you are more productive after taking a little time for yourself to re-charge as well.

Jennifer! You’re back. Oh, I missed you so much.

So I wasn’t the only selfish reader who worried…

Just so I’m clear — the Other Thing I’m doing is a labor of love, a promise I made to myself a long time ago to organize and articulate my ideas and get them out into the world.

But it’s not a change in direction for me, unless the screenplay doesn’t work out and the financial crisis puts too much strain on us, yadda yadda. And then perhaps it will be a stopgap. And perhaps it won’t — it’s a big risk that may not ever pan out.

But I tell you what — if I do have to get a j-o-b, this project is the best damn resume in the world.

And I’ve deliberately designed it so that the Big Ideas can get out in the world without me, if I am spending my energy elsewhere. My hope is that I’ve created something that will flex with me, that I can sometimes just maintain and sometimes deeply engage with.

But who knows? We’ll see what happens. I do worry about it, but at the end of the day, it’s my choice. I can always choose something else.