Danger Is My Business

Today was a rather peaceful, uneventful day. No musical events, no stress, no spontaneous readings in the salon. It involved plenty of writing for me: I plugged ahead on the revision for “October Suprise”–it’s taking very good shape. I’m hoping it will be done tomorrow. I also wrote more of “The Dinosaur Thief.” That first draft is now at seventy pages.

I did bring a number of things to read with me. A brought plays (“Inherit the Wind,” “Glengarry Glen Ross,” “Betrayal,” “Where we Belong,” “The West Side Waltz” and “Fool for Love.”) I brought poetry (Billy Collins’ “The Apple That Astonished Paris.”) I also brought a copy of Dennis Diderot’s philosophical musings, which is appropriate because he once stalked the rooms and hallways of this chateau. I also brought a copy of John Huston’s screenplay for ‘Treasure of the Sierra Madre.” This is one of my favorite Humphrey Bogart films–really, one of my favorite films, period. It’s one of the few films from his 40s and 50s heyday where he plays a completely irredeemable protagonist. He even told a friend “I play a real shit in this picture.”

What would make one of the biggest stars on earth want to play such an awful person at the height of his popularity? It had to be the writing. Well, it would have been for Bogart. He didn’t really care much for other actors–Lauren Bacall being the notable exception. At the commissary at Warner Brothers, if you needed to locate Bogart, you didn’t ask his costars. He was always hanging out with the writers. Huston was one of his favorites, so I wanted to read the script that got him fired up to play the horrid Fred C. Dobbs. Reading plays and screenplays is one of the best ways to learn and hone one’s craft. I knew all of these books would be ideal companions for my writing residency.

Of course, the environment in which I am reading certainly doesn’t hurt. This is my view at the pond, reading John Huston, on my fifth or sixth cup of Earl Grey. But really, who’s counting?

Although that title sounds a bit metaphorical, it is in fact what the writer’s cadre did today. I soldiered on with the first draft of my new screenplay and completed the revision of my television pilot. It still will require more work, but I finally have it structured the correct way. And I managed to trim about five pages off–always a good thing.

In the afternoon, Suzy, the writing director, took us through her business of writing seminar. It’s normally a class for her MFA students, but she kindly distilled it down to about two hours for us. I am not in the process of completing a novel or a nonfiction book, but it was still useful insight into the publishing industry, the challenge of locating an agent, and the benefits and demerits of small presses. Suzy, being a poet herself, also spent some time on the ins and outs of poetry publishing, which was very germane and helpful.

After dinner, Jacob did another reading from his story collection, and as usual, the story was compelling and entertaining. I stand by my 21sst century Rod Serling assessment for Jacob. The more I experience his writing, the more feel like the comparison is apt. It’s intensely annoying that Jacob is also a talented artist, costume and production designer. I can’t even resent him for all of his talents because he is a genuinely kind man.

So that was day thirteen. Below is a photo of what I thought was a great blue heron, but it turns out to be a grey heron. And I discovered there are actually two of them that frequent the pond. Seeing them in the tree, patiently awaiting the opportunity to achieve their goal is arguably a metaphor for success in the creative process. Needless to say, I am always happy to see them.

To say today was back to normal, would be to understate what a positive day it turned out to be. The morning and afternoon was normal for me–I continued to plug away at my new screenplay first draft and realized my television pilot needed to be completely restructured. I then began the process of pulling it apart for reassembly. All of that went well, but the real excitement occurred before dinner, which was called “the music soiree”

In the past, there have been musicians who have joined this residency primarily to focus on their composing and performance. We are all visual artists and writers, but it was clear that several of us also possess strong musical talent. It wasn’t simply people with musical skill performing some of their favorite covers–most of the music presented was original.

We began with Jill, a splendid visual artist who evidently has a history as a rock n roll grrrl. Playing guitar and ukele, she sang three songs including two originals. She is a powerhouse. Jill as then joined by Bridget and Sommer for a beautiful cover of an Amy Winehouse song.

Next up was Anandi, performing some of her original raps as Lil Stixxx (I am told she can be found on something called “Spotify.”). She went downstairs into the costume closet and selected a costume and a look. She performed with great confidence and intensity, and like all good raps, they got stuck in our heads. To put it mildly, her performance was something to behold.

Next to perform was Sapir, who sang an original song in Hebrew. She kindly shared copies of an English translation of her song, but it didn’t matter. Her emotional performance, sweet voice and the beautiful melody had most of us in tears. We may not have understood the words, but we knew exactly what she felt.

This was followed by our final duet, Alyssa and the return of Bridget. Like all of us, these two had only known each other a week, but their musical chemistry allowed them to write two songs together. Alyssa has been playing piano since she was five and had written piano chords she was unsure what to do with. She played them for Bridget, who wrote lyrics she could sing with the chords. The result was pure magic. After their songs, Alyssa sent us off to dinner with Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata.”

The excitement at dinner was palpable–we all understood we had been part of something remarkable. Although the timing was a coincidence, after the stress of the previous day, this is exactly what we needed. During the performance, another summer thunderstorm swept through the valley, and we were left with a rainbow.

There could be nothing better.

To begin with, I will say that today was stressful. I am not going to go into details, other than to say a difficult situation arose, and the staff of the residency dealt with it.

As you can imagine, it was a bit less productive than usual for all of us. There was a certain amount of talking and processing throughout the day, which I believe was necessary and helpful. It also seemed to tighten the bond between the residents, which I think most of us appreciated.

I did get some writing done, and the writers had a really productive writers’ circle. All the members shared positivity, encouragement, and helpful feedback to improve the pieces of writing we examined. Even though our writing director, Suzy, was having some internet issues and disappeared from our screen multiple times, it was productive two hours. It’s always good when you have writers who not only know how to give feedback, but how to accept it. As someone who has struggled to learn the art of giving and receiving criticism, it is something I appreciate and respect. We have two more circles before the end of the residency. I am looking forward to all of them.

The residents decided, after the stress of the day, to have an art therapy session in the evening. This began with a guided mediation, followed by an opportunity to draw, sketch, or write. I opted for the latter, still using the journal I purchased last week at the art store. We shared some of our work, and talked about it, and I think most of us felt better at the end of our session.

The day ended with a rainstorm that swept through the valley. This felt like both a real and symbolic cleanse. It chased away the heat wave that has been our constant companion since our arrival last week. It also felt like a metaphor for letting go and refocusing. For the first time since I arrived in France, I actually felt cold. But the embrace all of the residents shared today was anything but.

Today, all but seven us took a field trip to the medieval town of Troyes. I had considered going on the trip, and it looks like the residents who attended had fun. However, I chose to stay and continue my work. The chateau was very quiet, which created an opportunity for me to do my laundry (I did not pack three weeks’ worth of clothes). I continue to write my first draft of “The Dinosaur Thief,” and also began a revision of a television pilot about a high school teacher with PTSD–something I know a bit about. The pilot is called “Secondary.”

This was by no means my quietest day as a writing resident. Back in 2021, I was a writer-in-residence at Trailwood, the home of nature writer Edwin Way Teale. Teale has been sometimes referred to as the “Thoreau of Connecticut,” and I spent an entire week living in his house on my own. Even though Trailwood is on the grounds of a Connecticut Audubon site, with beautiful walking trails, I saw no other human being. I did see a snake, though. Today’s sparse attendance did give me the opportunity to get to know a couple of the residents a bit better than I would have normally. When there are approximately 25 of us sharing meals, with studios and sleeping chambers spread out throughout the entire property, you don’t have an opportunity to get to know everyone. Happily, that wasn’t an issue today.

I did get a chance to spend time by the pond, hang out with Dusty (of course) and even encountered the largest fly I had ever seen. I named the fly “Al,” and in spite of how quiet the house was, at no point did I hear Al scream “Help me!” Some of you will get that reference. All in all, a quiet, productive and lovely day.

Today, we broke a bit from my protocol, because I did not do a revision between breakfast and lunch. Instead, Flora (one of our organizers at the chateau) took some of us on a morning hike. The hike was about three miles each way to a place called Cul de Cerf. The canyon at the Cul de Cerf to which we hiked has the best name ever: the Deer’s Butt. Supposedly, the shape and terrain of the canyon suggested to someone the shape of a deer, with the canyon opening near the road…the ass of the deer. I don’t see it myself:

Whether you see it or not, it was a lovely hike. It had thunderstormed the night before, so the air was cool in the morning, and most of the trail was covered by a tree canopy. So, while, it was hot and humid, we were spared the intense sunlight. When we got to the top of the trail, Flora informed us that her middle name was Mary Poppins and proved it when she popped open her backpack to reveal a pitcher of orange juice, two liters of bottled water, cups and snacks.

After the hike, it was shower time, then lunch time, and then I decided to begin the first draft of a new feature. It’s called “The Dinosaur Thief,” and as the name suggests, it’s about the protagonist stealing a dinosaur. I decided to hand write this first draft, that way I could get away from my computer screen for a bit, and notebooks are very portable. And unlike laptops, if you drop your notebook on the ground, it’s not the end of the world. I also did a revision on a screenplay entitled “Leviathan,” (back on the laptop) so I managed to stick to my protocol.

After dinner, I did something I rarely do: participated in a magic ritual. Tilly, one of our Australian writers, wanted to celebrate the new moon with a manifestation and a tarot reading, and invited anyone to join her. The participants wrote down what we wanted manifested in our future and left our writings on the windowsill under a glass of water and a sprig of lavender. In the morning, we drank the water and kept our written responses in a safe place. For my tarot reading, we used a set of cards aligned with various herbs, a set I had never before seen. I picked up yarrow, which was pleasantly aligned with a white heron. The fun part about that is that my neighbors in Old Saybrook, Connecticut are egrets, swans and herons. So that was fun.

Those of you that know me are acutely aware that this is not the sort of the thing I would normally be inclined to do. But it was fun, it deepened the bonding between myself and several of my residents, and there are certainly worse things than thinking positively about the future. I am very glad I did it.

Another hot day, another productive day of writing. I did a revision on a feature screenplay (entitled “Ravine”) and composed a new ten-minute play. The new play is a commentary on tidying influencers, and the passionate disagreements these influencers can have about the most valid tidying philosophy. It struck me as rife for a bit of theatrical satire–because let’s face it: who cares? –so I completed the first draft.

Then I had time for an afternoon walk. Yes, it was warm, but I can’t be sedentary all the time. So, I headed out into the hot afternoon sun and did a circuit around the grounds: this involves the pond, the boathouse, the vineyards, before circling back to the chateau. The Eurasian Koots would serenade me as I pass them in the pond, and there were some other lovely sights:

After my walk, and dinner, it was story time in the salon. Jacob, a disgustingly talented writer-artist, wanted to share his project with us, which involved him reading a couple of the stories from his collection, and then a tour of his artist’s studio to see the illustrations he was creating for the project. I enjoyed his magical, spiritual stories–they struck me as the sort of stories Rod Serling might write if he were around today. And the artwork he was preparing was very strong–clear, distinctive pencils and inks. I sincerely hope he is able to get his collection published, because there is no shortage of talent and passion in the man.

After seeing Jacob’s art, I headed back to the chateau, accompanied by the redoubtable Emory. I had yet to see what the chateau entrance looked like at night, and I was able to take a photograph of the entrance lit up. It looks to no one’s surprise, magical.

I continued with my protocol of a revision in the morning and a new piece in the afternoon. However, the day had a bit more going on than just that. To begin with, I woke up thinking about a piece of writing I hadn’t thought about in thirty years: a children’s book I wrote when I was a college student. I think it came about because a former student has written a comment in response to a recent post about my beginning as a writer. I mentioned that I had always wanted to write, but it took years before I wrote something that I didn’t actually hate. The children’s book fell into that category–I had sent it to a book publisher, who rejected it, so naturally I thought it sucked. I woke up wondering, “Did it actually suck?”

Then the question became: do I still have a copy anywhere? After a tedious search through Dropbox, I found it under a name that had no connection to the actual story. I read it and discovered…it didn’t really suck. It had some awkward passages, and no real ending, so I decided to work on it and address those problems. By lunchtime, I was pretty happy with the result, and delighted to have rescued it from the archives.

After lunch, I joined Madison and Tilly for a dip into the swimming hole, which is adjacent to the pond we look out at from the front of the chateau. The pond is shallow, and is populated by ducks, Eurasian Coots, muskrat, and by some accounts, a kraken. The swimming hole is deep and only filled with humans who choose to immerse themselves in the cool waters. Given that we were in the midst of a heat wave it was a welcome sojourn.

After being in the water, I returned to the chateau and created a new piece–my second five-minute play. After the completion of this first draft, I stopped by Nick’s studio, who had invited me to check out his study in swans. His original plan was to draw the two swans that lived in the pond–but both were relocated to a more remote body of water, as the male swan had become aggressive. Fortunately for Nick, the chateau lent him a taxidermy swan that would essentially be his model. He is doing lovely pencil and ink work in his study, and I am excited what the final produce will be when he begins to weave in color. On the walk back, I visited the lavender garden outside the studios in the old horse stable. It smelled amazing!

After dinner, several of us began an unexpected project: collaborate to help a blackbird fledgling that apparently ended up outside its nest. We weren’t sure quite what to do with it–there didn’t seem to be a wildlife rescue nearby, but we were concerned because it couldn’t yet fly. Some research revealed that the fledgling blackbirds spend time on the ground learning how to forage and fly, most often under the watchful eye of the parents, keeping a safe distance. So, we decided to return it to where it was found, providing some water and shelter for protection. Once we released it, it jumped into the safety of the high grass and an inspection the following morning showed no signs of avian distress. There was half a dozen of us working together on the “blackbird problem.” This is what happens when you put sensitive, artistic types together in one place. This is how they might just spend their evening.

It’s been hot, but we’re about four days in, and things couldn’t be much better.

Without realizing it, I established a protocol for myself, and I employed it again today. Wake up, shower, have breakfast (did I mention I have had pain de chocolat every day? I have!), and do a revision in the morning, working until lunch. After lunch work on a new creation until dinner. Be social after dinner, then head up to my desk and write my nightly blog post.

The protocol was disrupted slightly when I accidentally stepped on a bee in my room. I am slightly allergic (not EpiPen allergic, happily) so some swiftly applied ointment, a band aid, and some Allegra kept things under control. I think the bee was dying already–there was a reason it was on the floor. However, it didn’t go without a fight.

With that sorted, I started on my morning revision: my feature screenplay, “Ashes.” I had some feedback from contests in which it had placed, and I wanted to carefully absorb the feedback and use it to improve the script. Although some of the notes made little sense–sometimes I think reviewers are annoyed you didn’t write the script they thought you should–most of it was helpful, and I feel the script is now better.

After lunch, it was time for a new creation. A couple of years ago, someone in my neighborhood in Connecticut posted this on a telephone pole:

I don’t know why or whom it was for. I took a picture because I knew there was a story here. I didn’t know what it was, but I hung on to the photo until I found it. I did today–and turned it into a ten-minute play.

Before dinner, I visited the wine cave for some non-alcoholic beer (quite good), another delicious bag of Tyrell’s potato chips (which did not last as long as I had hoped) and a bag of peanuts to snack on over the next few days. We had our usual delicious dinner (the sauteed asparagus in particular was so good) and I joined some residents for another writing share. This time, Sommer and Tilly read the two short plays I had recently written and were kindly enthusiastic about them. Then Hannah G. and Ambrose joined us, and we had a lovely chat about writing and religion and even took turns reading from a poetry book that Sommer had brought. She purchased it thinking it was written by an Australian; turns out the poet was from Texas.

In the midst of everything else done today, I found time to reread one of my favorite plays: “Inherit the Wind.” I love reading new plays; I also enjoy rereading some of my favorites, because I love the experience of having the familiar language knocking around my head while I am in the writing zone. It helps lubricate things. After I finished the play, I donated it to the chateau library. It’s not a huge library, but what it may lack in quantity it makes up for in quality.

And it’s very cozy.