amandamason’s blog

Sort of.

So now I kind of don't want to quit. Something is telling me that I should keep trying, that I should be putting money back to pay my dues to join the Screen Actors Guild. I'm not going to question it. So I'm keepin' on keepin' on and slowly putting some dough back so that I can do it round about next month. Maybe that's what I'll give myself for Valentines Day. Me and my SAG card will go out on a date.

I hope that all three of you reading this blog had a wonderful holiday season and that your 2007 is off to a great start. Mine is. I feel really positive about this next year, career-wise, socially, and just in every way possible. I feel like my circle of friends has expanded a little, and I'm always thankful for that. I feel a sense of community forming in regards to writing and creative stuff, as well. So, I'm calling it up: 2007 IS GOING TO ROCK.

And to get this year off to a great start, my boss has just read my spec script and is prepared to give me notes. I'm also considering enrolling in some writing classes through Media Bistro or something of that ilk...

I'm looking to do more reading this next year. I'm mainly trying to get through the classics -- "The Education of Henry Adams" is first on my list -- but I'm also trying to alternate with some mainstream fiction or non-fiction. I need recommendations!

So I think it's time I admitted something to myself and to all of you reading this.

(Okay, all maybe two of you reading this.)

(If that many.)

For those of you who read the other non-careery blog, this is going to be what one might refer to as redundant.

Anyway, this is my official "retirement" from acting. That's right. No more scary eyebrow pictures that look ten times hotter than I am in real life. I'm putting all of my efforts into writing now. (Actually, I should be using this hour to write on my Earl spec, but I am instead blogging.)

Seriously, though. Writing for TV is what I moved out here to do. It's what dragged me 1,300 miles west of the lands from whence I came. I'm good at it. Or, at the very least, I'm a better writer than I am an actress. Actually, I don't think you can really call me an actress. Maybe I'd have a shot if there wasn't such a thing as talkies, but I am not so good with the line readings. I can enter a writing contest without batting an eye, but put me up in front of a camera in a class, and I clam up like a...well...I clam up like a clam. I've got more ticks than a non-dipped dog during a humid summer. (And trust me, that's a lot of ticks.)

I don't believe in the phrase "giving up." And I don't feel like this is what I'm doing. However, I'm big on finding your strengths and mining them. I feel like writing is mine. I've received enough encouragement from media professionals and friends and peers whose opinions I respect.

So here we go...

So it is finished. Well, maybe it's not finished, finished (I have one more shine I want to put on it), but for all intents and purposes "Piracy" is finished. It is my new favorite baby and I love it greatly. Now I've just got to get the next one -- tentatively titled "The Bracket" -- cranked out, and it's coming along rather nicely.

My roommates and I are going to a concert this evening at the Roxy in West Hollywood. It's Sara Bareilles and Marc Broussard, neither of whom I've heard much of, but I'm pretty psyched about it. My TiFaux better behave itself tonight. It's taken all of my willpower not to walk to the Apple Store in the Century City Mall this afternoon to buy a video iPod. I keep thinking of how nice it would be to have on the plane tomorrow.

Leg one: Ontario to Phoenix -- 1 hour and 10 minutes = two sitcom episodes or one drama episode.

Leg two: Phoenix to El Paso -- 1 hour and 10 minutes = two sitcom episodes or one drama episode.

Leg three: El Paso to Lubbock -- 55 minutes = two sitcom episodes (without commercial), er...a NAP.

Oh well. First things first: Make my car a legal resident of the state of California.

Well, this blog is straying from careerishness, so I best end it right now. Best to you all!

I'm trying my best to make this blog just about my "career," if you can really call it that at this point. That means that all of my whining about how I feel like a water-retaining sea cow, or how I just can't understand why whats-his-face is an OBLIVIOUS IDIOT goes in my other journal. Yes, I have another journal. No, I'm not going to tell you where it is. (Though some of you know it anyway.)

ANYWAYS...

So last night, I achieved a small victory. Or, rather, a big victory. After weeks of suckituphobia, I sat down at my computer and found myself writing. I'm not talking about outlining. I mean, last night, I cranked out seven pages of actual script. Starting from the beginning and just writing. The teaser is done and I'm nearly through my first act. And though I know some of you are like, "Dude. Seven pages is child's play. Let me tell you about the night I mainlined Red Bull and produced an entire four-hour epic..." Well, to that I just say... Well, kiss it.

My teaser makes me giddy. My character development makes me giddy. The ease with which the dialogue came to me was frightening and magical at the same time, so, you know, giddy.

Giddy!

NOTE: I wrote this a few months after I moved out here. I'm kind of going through the same emotions right now, so I thought it was appropriate to post it...

I dreamed of rain on Van Buren Street last night.

I can see it and smell it as clear as day. It's autumn in Texas and the air is cool and crisp. I'm in the kitchen, my cat in the open window, enjoying the "outside" smells through the screen and watching me as I cook.

Spaghetti. With garlic bread. And a fresh salad with cucumbers and ranch dressing. I munch a couple of croutons as I cook, and I give Rubble one as well.

It's quiet. And there's no one there but Rubble and me. Later, we'll turn on the TV or a Nat King Cole CD and I'll rock in the chair and he'll sit in my lap and stare up at me with those eyes.

My parents might come over and bring a deck of cards. We'll have a piece of cake and I'll make them coffee, but not drink any of it myself because I can't stand the bitterness. They tell me it's an acquired taste. It's been ten years since I first heard that and the taste is still beyond my reach. So I'll drink milk instead.

I'll burn a candle - toasted hazelnut scented - just like Mom always burned in our house and I'll set out my fall decorations, marveling at how Halloween is only a few weeks away and how we all know what that means. Thanksgiving and Christmas aren't that far away.

I should start shopping tomorrow. I'll go to the mall and look in the windows and see that Dillards already has their Christmas store open. Maybe I'll call Mama. We can split an order of nuggets at Chick-Fil-A and then we'll go into the Christmas store and gush and tear up at the sounds of "Silent Night."

My favorite Christmas song.

And then I'll go home and sit in my rocker and cherish the feel of the wood beneath my feet and the cat in my lap. And I'll sing that song as I fall asleep. Because it's almost Christmas, you know, and it's raining on Van Buren Street.

And I'm 1,200 miles away.