The First Post Of The Blog

Welcome to the first post of the blog. Yippie Skippie.

This blog is an experiment. There is no guarantee that it will work. Thus, I’m gonna blog six months at a time, the effectiveness of which I’ll evaluate at the end whether to continue or pull the plug. And, because I am VERY familiar with the daily ritual of checking my friends’ blogs only to tear my clothes and gnash my teeth when there is no new entry, I make this promise: there will be a new entry every Monday. Maybe more than that, if I’m feeling especially frisky (or if I’m trying to procrastinate on working on my current script.)

There is a reason behind this blog and it’s not This Is What I’m Doing Today. I keep my own journal for that kind of nonsense, and it’s kinda boring to read about if you’re not me (but if you ARE me, it’s the greatest story ever told. Honest.)

No, no, the reason behind this blog is fairly straightforward: I’m a screenwriting chick trying desperately to feel God’s presence in my life.

I aspire to work in an industry that some would say is Godforsaken personified. I’m actually pretty good at the whole writing thing, and I can say this without blushing for the same reason that I know I’m a good kisser – too many different people have told me that I’m a good writer and/or a good kisser for it to be some kind of conspiracy to tear down my self esteem that I’m not. Plus I’ve got reviews, folks. Reviews from the LA Weekly. On my writing! The endorsements on my kissing, well, that’s an entry for another time.

I aspire to work in an industry where you can make money telling stories that have nothing to do with God. Let’s be honest, the stories I want to tell (and have told in the past) actually don’t have a THING to do with God. Does that make me a bad Christian? Can I only call myself a Christian if I put my hand over my heart and swear that I will only tell stories that feature Christian protagonists, or stories direct from the Bible?

Am I supposed to chuck it all and go be a secretary at a church? Go look up the writing staff of Veggietales and try to get a job there? Would that mean I’m truly living in His light, in His Purpose? At one point, I honestly thought that’s what I was supposed to do.

But I don’t wanna write for Veggietales. I write really whacked out stuff, man. I write stuff where fairy tales are subverted, where Muppets recite Shakespeare, where chicks have phone sex scenes with each other, where ghosts are caught by curses, and a thousand other different things. Is God there? One wouldn’t think so. Does that mean I’m going to hell? I don’t think so (or at least I really really hope not). What DOES it mean?

I think it means that I have this talent that, for whatever reason, is God given, because really, there’s no other explanation for how a child born of a father who got a masters in Physics and a mother who got a masters in History turned out like me.

And if this talent is God given, as I think it must be, and there is the desire to NOT write for Veggietales, then what do I do? I have these stories that I DO want to tell, and they have NOTHING to do with the Bible, am I allowed to tell them? Should I be allowed to tell them? Who’s the joker who came up with the concept of being allowed to do this, that, or the other anyway, huh?

So that’s partly what this blog is about. Me, the screenwriter chickie who’s also a Christian but may not necessarily be writing stuff that’s dripping with God, and wondering how to sort it all out.

The other part is my spiritual journey. My “Walk with Christ,” as they call it. Except it’s more like me skipping, and going “Hey, look at me! Look at this! Look at THIS!”, and Him going, “Um, okay.” And then I trip and fall down and He goes “Um, yeah. Let’s start over.” And I get up and start skipping again because I haven’t learned a damn thing and He kinda sighs and follows me down the beach, waiting for me to trip again, ‘cause He knows I’m gonna.

The question is not whether I believe in God. There is no doubt that He exists. Of course He does. There is no way I could have gotten where I am (bearing in mind that this is not where I want to be, and yet so much farther than where I thought I could have gotten) without Him.

The question is, I believe in Him, and yet I can’t FEEL Him. I pray to Him, I know He can hear me, I don’t FEEL Him. Sometimes I can see where He answered me, but it usually takes a year after the fact before I see it. Usually on a New Year’s. Usually accompanied by copious amounts of alcohol. And I can’t help but think if He really wanted to get through to me, He’d do it in a way that didn’t involve a haze of tequila.

I can’t help but wonder if I was a better person, if I was a more religious person, if I just chucked it all and went to Write For Veggietales (which will now serve as a metaphor for “I gave up everything, got a job as a secretary at a church, and wrote nothing but screen adaptations from the Bible. My mom is very happy.”), would I feel Him more? Would I feel His presence more because I’d be solely, squarely, firmly ON THE ROAD TO GOD?

Because, right now, I don’t feel anything. And that really, really, REALLY distresses me. I make good decisions, sometimes. I try to make the right decision all the time. But I don’t make it all the time.

I’ve made some jaw dropping, astoundingly BAD decisions in my time. (Oh yes, I have, oh yes I have.) And the entire time, I was in communication with God, and the conversation went something like, “Um, hi. God. See, here’s the thing. This guy, see. He’s, like, REALLY hot. C’mon, You should know. You made him, didn’t you? Sure You did."

"And whether this Tangible Example of Hotness Who Just Kissed Me And Said I Was A Great Kisser And Would Like To Take Me To Bed And Do All Sorts Of Things That I’m Pretty Sure Aren’t Sanctioned By You (Song Of Solomon Not Withstanding), was made by You to be this Supremely Hot because you want to send him to Guatemala to build a church for Portuguese nuns because they’ve never seen a Supremely Hot Guy like this guy and they need to be tested more than me, well, that’s…okay, that’s a little weird, because he’s not in Guatemala, he’s here in front of me and I’m really really just…okay, I’m sorry. I’M SORRY. He’s the Golden Ticket, God! He’s the Golden Ticket of Supreme Hotness, and…yes, I’m grabbing him, God. If he was a test for me, I’m FAILING, God. I’m failing with BOTH HANDS here.”

So yeah. I’ve made some bad decisions. I’ve made some good decisions. But I don’t feel the presence of God either way, and that’s the part that distresses me.

So what’s a screenwriting chickie who believes in God though she’s never felt His presence to do?

Start a blog, I guess. See if that jump starts anything. See if anyone else out there feels the struggle I do. And probably chuck it all in six months.