« September 2007 | Main | November 2007 »

October 30, 2007

Cricket Feet Showcase: RSVP now!

Hello *Industry Friends who read the BonBlogs!

We'd love to see you at the third 2007 Cricket Feet Casting Actors Showcase next week. To meet the cast and download a PDF of the invitation, go here and then click CAST.

Here are the basics:

The Cricket Feet Casting Actors Showcase
produced by: Bonnie Gillespie
directed by: Annie Wood

presenting:
Alex Collins || Alexandria Fierz || Amy Crofoot || Anna Campbell || Anoush Nevart || Beau Wilson || Christopher Haro || Constance Hsu || Courtney Andresen || Darren Meekin || Eitan Loewenstein || Eli Bildner || Ernest Monroe || Ethan Flower || Etta Devine || Gabriel Diani || Glenn Keogh || Jenna West || Jennifer Boarini || Jim Gleason || Katie Swain || Keith Johnson || Kimberly Crandall || Matthew J. Cates || Megan Hollingshead || Michael Proctor || Pamela Newlands || Paul Vroom || Sheila Daley || Shelley Delayne || Stephen Pollak || Tamika Simpkins || Tim Astor || Victor Fischbarg

A fast-paced, professionally directed, comedic showcase of 34 carefully screened and appropriately cast actors in just over an hour.

Free show.
Free food and drinks before *and* after the show.
Free industry kit with DVD compilation of the actors' demo reels.
Free industry parking.

Last chance to see us in Santa Monica before we move to our 2008 location (bigger, better, Burbank-ier)!

You have THREE dates to choose from:

Tuesday, November 6th
Wednesday, November 7th
Thursday, November 8th

All shows begin promptly at 8pm! :) Seriously. We're prompt. :) And funny.

Promenade Playhouse
1404-8 3rd Street Promenade,
Santa Monica, CA 90401

directions/venue info: http://promenadeplayhouse.com
reservations/showcase info: http://cricketfeetshowcase.com

Please RSVP using the handy form at our website. Thanks!

Thanks, as always, for your support! Add the Cricket Feet Showcase as your MySpace friend!

Cheers,
--
Bonnie Gillespie
Cricket Feet Casting

* Industry = someone who can lead (directly) to a job for our showcase cast. That means a director, producer, casting staff, agent, manager, or other VERIFIABLE professional in the industry. Non-industry = someone who has maybe cast one thing, but it was a short film starring himself. Someone who has maybe directed one thing, but it was a play starring herself. Intern in a casting office whose career track is "working actor," not "future CD." Basically, we love the hyphenates, we love the people who are out there doing it for themselves, but unless their butts in the seats = more opportunities for our cast, they're not likely to be let in as industry.

Bottom line, we're not gonna turn away the head of theatrical at Buchwald because some actor friend who randomly shot a self-starring video that went viral on YouTube wants to sit in his seat. Right? Right.

Y'all can still come, just be prepared to do so on a stand-by (or stand-up) basis. K? Thanks!

Posted by bonnie at 4:53 PM | Comments (0)

October 28, 2007

The Actors Voice, 10/29/07

Hi Everyone!

Here's how tomorrow's The Actors Voice starts out.

===========

Toughen Up

Seems to be going around. There's an outbreak of bad manners intersecting with a heightened level of sensitivity. And it has caused my inbox to become filled with emails from actors wondering why casting directors are such meanies.

Well, here's the short answer: Most of us aren't. Most of us are actually really decent people who treat professional actors professionally and unprofessional actors politely.

But even decent people who almost always behave professionally sometimes have bad days. Now, that doesn't give anyone the right to be flat-out mean to someone who's just doing his best, but not everyone plays by the same rules.

However, in at least a couple of the examples that actors have been emailing to me this week, the "bad behavior" isn't actually coming from casting directors. It's coming from folks who are bypassing the casting director and putting out breakdowns on their own. Sometimes it's a producer doing her own thing. Sometimes it's an actor trying to bring together a project for himself, searching for a supporting cast. And sometimes, yes, it is a casting director. And, at least from some of the examples you've sent my way, I'd have to agree: We're dealing with some meanies.

That said, the "fix" for this situations is easy: Toughen up. (Oh, and in case you think I mean it's the actor who needs to toughen up, let me assure you that this goes for these "casting people" too. Bear with me. This will make sense in a moment.)

===========

Continue reading this column in the morning, along with a Your Turn follow-up on last week's Your Turn--which was a follow-up on The Let-Down--at Showfax.com.

As always, THANK YOU for reading!

And!!

Be sure to visit The Actors Voice: POV on Thursday for the final POV in a four-part series from Prague-based CD, Nancy Bishop.

Woo hoo!

Cheers,
-Bon.
Live your dreams! If you don't, someone else will.

Posted by bonnie at 6:41 PM | Comments (0)

October 27, 2007

by god, georgia bulldogs, i love you (santa barbara is nice too).

Posted by bonnie at 4:02 PM | Comments (1)

October 24, 2007

Community, Creativity, and Cheers

I arrived early. Way early. So early that for the first time I actually found a parking spot on the street when I did my "lap before committing to the parking deck" and then sat in my car listening to the radio and touching up my makeup.

I was nervous. Really nervous. Like the kind of nervous that I used to get before I had to speak to a group of 200 actors for three hours straight. Before I knew how to do that on auto-pilot. Back when that was new.

This was new.

Back in July, Chairman posted a notice about the Warner Bros. Comedy Writers Workshop at a MySpace group we're both a part of. I was in the middle of "showcase hell week" when I read it, but somehow it sparked off something. Some desire I didn't *really* think I had.

Maybe I want to write a spec script. Maybe the joy I got out of having my showcase scene performed was something deeper. Something worth exploring.

I slept on it.

The next day, after the first night of the showcase run, Rockstar Intern Julie and I came back home and decompressed (while Keith stayed behind and cleaned up the theatre). I told her about this wild idea I was having trouble putting aside in my mind. She sat up in a most alert-Julie fashion. I'll never forget her sitting on "her spot" on the floor, me on "my spot" on the sofa, and that look in her eyes that said, "Oh, God, Bonnie, DO IT."

It would be days before I would mention this idea to anyone else. In fact, I spent an hour trolling through the list of shows in production at CastingAbout.com to write down titles of shows I could potentially spec. I figured, anything I'd seen more than a half-dozen episodes of was fair game. I had no idea for a story. I had no real attachment to any particular show. I just knew I wanted this... and I had three weeks to get it done.

As I created one column for sitcoms and another for dramatic episodics, I felt no real surge of energy over any item on the list until I wrote the words "My Boys". It was at that point that I knew, I needn't finish the list. That would be the show I would spec. I'd seen nearly every episode of its first season and, wouldn't you know it, TBS was running a marathon of its first season on July 29th to get us geared up for its second season, starting July 30th. Perfect. Armed with the TiVo and a yellow legal pad, I began.

Each night at the gym, I read chapters of The Eight Characters of Comedy, Television Writing from the Inside Out, and Created By.... It was like three weeks of night school.

And by day, I would watch the episodes of My Boys while writing a meticulously-detailed show bible. I created charts. I had notecards for each main character with all manner of adjectives scribbled in the corners. A print-out of the cast photo was now posted on the wall of my work area. I transcribed the pilot to be sure I got the show format down. I outlined subsequent episodes to catch transitions from early format to "the show standard."

Cold open. Voiceover. Looooong act one. Voiceover. Short act two. Tag. Voiceover.

There were no script samples available. I looked everywhere. None. Closest I could tell, we were looking at a Sex and the City-style or Arrested Development-style script. Go with the single-camera, no laugh track, voiceover brand of sitcom that came before it, I figured. You'll be close enough to right. And everything I'd read said that the most important elements were gonna be:

1. You get the show. Its voice. Its tone. Its characters.
2. Your script is clean. Perfect spelling, punctuation, formatting.
3. Your dialogue is funny. Fast, fast, and funny.

Check. Check. And holy-hell check.

I was ready. Four days ahead of the deadline for submissions and I was now ready to start writing my spec script. Setting: A delicious, delightful dinner out with Keith during which I told him about how intrigued one of our showcase cast members had been about my story of how the showcase scene I wrote stemmed from a really horrific set-up I'd experienced when I lived in LA in the early '90s.

As Keith and I talked about the conversation I had had with the showcaser a couple of weeks earlier, I said, "I think this is where the show needs to go. I think this is the A-story. But what the hell is my B-story? And C-story?" And just then we experienced the Middle-Aged Balding Entitled A-Hole at El Cholo. Suddenly, the B-story was born. And it was so meaty I no longer needed a C-story. It was time to write. The gears were greased and with just one long weekend in which to do it, it was time to open Final Draft and put that puppy together.

Now, I had written one spec script before. In undergrad TV Writing in J-School at UGA. It was for The Simpsons and it was actually damn good. But for those of you keeping track, that would be... oh... over 15 years ago, and even though I've paid rent via a writing career for a pretty good long time, now, writing non-fiction for actors is just not the same as banging out a spec script. I was underconfident. I knew the odds were against me getting anywhere close to being in the party of three who would win the Fellowship. I also knew I could do this. And dammit, I was gonna.

And I did.

With just hours to go before registering the script and sending it off to Warner Bros., I sent it to My Ron Howard to read. Anna is not only a brilliant writer and director, she is hilarious. And she knows what sells. She has a flippin' Emmy, for cryin' out loud. Her notes were like bonus sprinkles of powdered sugar on already-delicious French Toast. And they came in just in time. Tweak here. Punch-up there. And the best part was the note in which she said, "Oh, and if I'm too late in getting these thoughts to you, please know that you already have a script here that is every bit as good as anything anyone is putting on TV anywhere right now. Your voice is clear. You, my friend, are a writer."

(Oh, how I would fight with my mom over that one. "My daughter, the writer," she would say. And I would stomp my pre-teen foot and scream, "Muh-thur! I am an ACK-TRESS!")

Off the script went and I had absolutely nothing to think about for the next seven weeks. Out of my hands. It was done. On with the rest of the work of my life. We'll just see what happens come October 8th.

Regular readers of my Showfax column know what happened October 8th. (Actually, I received my rejection letter on the 6th, but the column was so damn good that I didn't amend it to include the final outcome.)

But y'know what? I didn't feel sad. I felt empowered. In almost no time, I made a decision to do something brave and scary and then, by damn, I did the damn thing.

And on October 9th, when I wanted to wallow in self-pity over having written a spec that no one would ever see (no matter how "big and bad my talk" was, in that week's column), I received an email from the good folks at Naked Angels' Tuesdays@9, reminding me that it had been awhile since my last visit.

In fact, it had. I was a semi-regular visitor back in the summer of 2004. I went to scout actors after Subhash told me about it. I met Blake there and he propositioned me about writing a book together. And we did. Keith went several times and read the wonderful, original material that was being mounted each week. But then life did what it does: got busy. And I stopped going, despite how much I enjoyed the community, the creativity, the cheers.

But it's like Kathleen knew--when she sent out that email blast to everyone who had ever been on the Tuesdays@9 mailing list--that she was gently reminding me that this did not have to be the end of the story for my little spec script.

Sure, I had Frankensteined a couple of sections of it into scenes for November's showcase, but I still really liked the script as a whole. So this email at just the right time was enough to convince me to break it into fifths (to meet the 10-page max submission limit) and plan to show up--alone, for the first time in three years--to this once-familiar place, filled with artists who know each other well.

Of course, I found a way to talk myself out of going, around 7pm. I was in the middle of Fixing a Hole, dammit! I hadn't left the house in over a week! I was deep in a funk-infested process that HAD to be completed in a very particular way, and taking a break to walk into a room filled with people I might not even know with a spec script that was already rejected by the good folks at Warner Bros. when I was happily indulging the depths-of-despair routine so that I could get through it already just did not sound like fun. VERY easy to talk myself out of this one. Very.

And then another email landed in my inbox. This one was from My Cousin Joni, who had helped me with a couple of baseball analogies for PJ's voiceovers in the spec script. She had read about The Let-Down and wanted me to know that she was still proud of me for having tried it and that she loved the script anyway; thought it was every bit as good as anything anyone is putting on TV anywhere right now. And she loved me for being brave.

That did it!

Out I went. I grabbed the print-outs of the segmented spec script and let the mighty TicTac find its way to St. Nick's Pub. I was early. I was nervous. I ordered a strong drink at the bar, way overtipped, and climbed the stairs to the performance room. And there was Blake. And Subhash. I could finally exhale. Blake pointed me in the direction of Kathleen, who was happy to take my submissions, assuring me it would be four to six weeks to get in the queue, but that she loved my adherence to the exact submission instructions from the website. (I'm all about the details, baby.) I said to her, "I'm so nervous!" And she said, "That's why we do this in a bar."

Before I could get up from her submission table to find my own seat, Blake had come over to hug me some more and catch up on about a hundred things. And then Chuck walked over and we caught up. And then I was introduced around to Steve and Jared and Tom. Finally, I found a seat in a corner. I wanted to watch. I'd never been here "as a writer" and I had brought my notepad, ready to watch this experience no longer through the eyes of a casting director.

Enter: Keith. He has left class early to come support me. I am both elated (that he's here) and pissed at him (for missing class). Blake comes over and catches up with Keith now, too. Bless Blake. He is such a good man.

The night is over before I want it to be and I've embarrassed myself by taking a stutter-step up to my seat upon my return from the restroom, making a loud "clunk" with my boot during Kevin's very funny scene. I am sure I'll be asked never to return. Keith says the only thing one can say to the daughter who inherited her mother's "embarrassment disease." Let it go. So I do.

We leave and I'm hopeful that I'll return the following week. And I do. I sit with Subhash and am elated when KiKi comes over to me and pulls me in for the biggest, most welcoming hug I've had in ages. Again, the scenes are wonderful, the actors are outstanding, the music is fantastic, and this time I stay after with KiKi and Corey and we talk about zillions of things and laugh, laugh, laugh.

Okay. Now I'm going to be okay. I can come back next week. And the one after that. Then not on the 6th because of the showcase but then after that, just one more week and we'll be getting to the slots that perhaps one of my scenes could occupy. Cool. Lots of time to get really down with how this feels. Know who these actors are, scope out who should read what, and feel "in" more than I do right now. Cool.

And in comes another email from Kathleen. "Would you be willing to put up a scene from your My Boys spec this week? Any of them would be fine."

ACK!!!!!!

Yes. The answer is YES, dork! YES. "Yes," I reply. "Of course. Happy to. Thank you."

ACK!!!!!!

Luckily, there are all manner of things to busy myself with between the moment of invitation and THE MOMENT 50 PEOPLE HEAR MY WORK. Showcase, showcase, and more showcase. Plenty to do. Puh-lenty! Keep yourself busy, Gillespie. It's no big deal.

I arrive early. Way early. So early that for the first time I actually find a parking spot on the street when I do my "lap before committing to the parking deck" and then sit in my car listening to the radio and touching up my makeup.

I am nervous. Really nervous. Like the kind of nervous that I used to get before I had to speak to a group of 200 actors for three hours straight. Before I knew how to do that on auto-pilot. Back when that was new.

This is new.

I walk in, order a drink at the bar (and to tell you how nervous I am, here's the drink I order: WATER), and head upstairs, only to be asked to come back up in ten minutes (after soundcheck). Fair enough. I am insanely early. I wait downstairs, watching news coverage of the fires on the big-screen TV. I answer a couple of emails on my handheld. I sip my water. Fifteen minutes pass and up I go, along with a dozen other folks. It is time.

As nervous as a loner at the Homecoming Dance upon his approach of the bleachers filled with potential dance partners, I begin walking up to actors, "Um, hi. I'm Bonnie Gillespie. My scene is going up tonight. It's my first time. Would you consider reading a part for me?"

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME, CASTING DIRECTOR?

I know. It's insane.

Yet, that's how it goes. For six roles and one reader of stage directions. Seven times, I'm a nervous wreck. I ask Stacey--whose first time it was two weeks ago when I was first back--whether she felt nervous then. "Of course! I think it would be unnatural not to feel nervous." Good. I like Stacey. She's smart.

It's now out of my hands. Everyone has their sides. I have no idea when my piece will go up, nor do I know what it means if it's first or last or what. "Mind Taffy," I tell myself. "Let it go."

Babes McPhee is here and I've not seen her since closing night of her play (which I cast), December 2006. Ack! That's criminal. We catch up. I don't remember a thing. I'm so nervous. I need to get more water.

Two showcasers have come to show their support, get in on the actor action, just be there with me. I am so touched. And if I weren't so nervous, I'd probably let that show a bit more.

Regulars are nodding at me as they pass by. I'm not a stranger now, even though only a half-dozen people here know my name. As I'm walking by the entrance, a young man enters and says, "You're Bonnie Gillespie!" And I say, "Yes, I am!" as I extend my hand to shake his. "I'm Eric. I attended a talk that your husband gave at AFI a couple of weeks ago and I saw on your MySpace that you were going to be here tonight. So, I decided to take the initiative and come by to introduce myself."

Rockstar. I tell him how this whole thing works, point out Kathleen, and encourage him to go introduce himself, so perhaps he'll be asked to read.

I scurry back to my seat and resume taking notes on people. This guy looks familiar. That guy is always funny. See if he'll read my script if I'm asked to bring one back again in the future. She looks so much like my niece that it's distracting. Oh dear GAWD that lady is a hoot!

Notes... notes... notes...

And we begin. Michael reaches over and squeezes my shoulder. He knows I'm nervous. I thank him for being there. It means a lot.

Second scene up--it's mine. Kathleen introduces me and I scooch past Babes to take the stage and set up the scene, while the actors take their seats in front of me. I say that it's my first time and thank you for the opportunity, this is a spec script for the TBS single-camera sitcom My Boys and the only thing we've missed by starting here at act one is the cold open in which PJ agrees to go out on a blind date set up by a coworker of hers. I'm really nervous, so, wonderful actors please introduce yourselves--and I fly off the stage.

I grab my notepad and take Ethan's seat, since he's up there reading the amazingly funny part of Mike. On my copy of the script, I place a checkmark every time there's a laugh. I place an X every time I think there should be a laugh but there is not one.

Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. X. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check... until it's over. Those ten pages flew by. I recall that halfway through the read, Barbara has turned around, looked at me, and given an enthusiastic thumbs-up while mouthing, "This is really funny!"

It is. It really is. And no one here is laughing because they need me to feel good. They're laughing because it feels good for them to do so. And my words led to that feeling.

Wow.

Applause and cheers as the actors return to their seats and the next group heads to the stage. My actors pass me, hand back their sides, shake my hand and say things like, "That was fun," "Thank you," and, "Anytime. You're great!"

Michael leans over and says, "You got some cheers there, girl."

He is right. This was a very strong scene.

Exhale.

Enjoy the rest of the night, which includes some of the most brilliant song stylings I've ever heard. I knew Steve was incredibly funny two weeks ago when he read. And last week too. But tonight he was the musical guest and damn if he didn't make the entire room burst with laughter and then weep before the song was over. "You won't be able to buy that on CD, folks," he said. And I was pissed. Because I totally would've bought it. Oh, hell yeah.

It's at this moment that I realize how lucky I am to live in a town where people get up together and celebrate creative energy, ideas, and music. They riff off each other. They jam. They cheer one another on. They give a shit. And they're not just sitting around at home thinking about how unfair this town is and how unrecognized their talent is. They're out there DOING IT. And THAT is rewarded.

Oh my, I realize, I've just fixed a hole.

And it's not because they liked what I did. It's because they welcomed it. It could've sucked, but I was still given the shot. And that, my friends, rocks like nothing else.

Tonight I left clutching the business cards of several people who want me to join in smaller-group writing/reading/critiquing series. I left having connected with actors who moved here having read my books and columns for years, gearing up for Hollywood--and only after Kathleen introduced me and my scene did they put that together. I left with Ernest and Michael who walked me to my car, good southern gentlemen that they are. And I felt so full. So damn full.

And it's not because they liked what I did.

It's because I made room for doing it in my heart. And then I did it.

You will get what you want when you are no longer attached to how it gets to you.

Amen.

Posted by bonnie at 4:13 AM | Comments (5)

October 21, 2007

The Actors Voice, 10/22/07

Hi Everyone!

Here's how tomorrow's The Actors Voice starts out.

===========

I'd Like To Thank the Academy

Last month, I tuned in for some fraction of the Emmy Awards. Truth be told, I'm a bit of an award show junkie, so it was really bizarre that I had absolutely zero interest in staying home to watch the Emmys this year. Not only did I not cut short the afternoon plans I had, I actually extended my plans to include a dinner meeting with a colleague rather than racing home to catch up with the show. Call it The Ryan Seacrest Factor, if you will. But I'm not even sure that's what turned me off to it. I just kind of wasn't in the mood.

Still, when I got home from my dinner date, I turned on the Emmys and joined the show in progress (actually, it had been over for hours, but we get that lovely tape-delayed version here in LA which just really pisses me off, seeing as every tease from the news anchors includes shots of the winners backstage in the press room. I'm like, "If you're gonna force us to watch on tape-delay, then for the love of all that is holy, you should be forced to do spoiler-free news teases on the same channel." But I digress).

I found myself pausing the TiVo to let the show get in the system for ten minutes or so, then watching the last hour of the Emmys by fast-forwarding through all of the "bits" (except for the brilliant impromptu award acceptance by Jon Stewart, Stephen Colbert, and Steve Carell), fast-forwarding through the host's intros, and even fast-forwarding through some of the clips of nominated shows. I wanted to watch the acceptance speeches (well... some of them. Some were just... too much. I'm lookin' at you, Gidget). I wanted to hear who these fine actors--actors at the top of their game and at their happiest career moment--listed among those who helped them get to this point. Was it their friends, their family members, their agents, their show's producers, their co-stars, their personal trainer? Who would they choose to honor in that seconds-long moment they are given to do so?

===========

Continue reading this column in the morning, along with a Your Turn follow-up on The Let-Down at Showfax.com.

As always, THANK YOU for reading!

Woo hoo!

Cheers,
-Bon.
Live your dreams! If you don't, someone else will.

Posted by bonnie at 5:22 PM | Comments (0)

October 20, 2007

Good News/Bad News

Good News:
Broken Windows is through post, which means we'll be having a screening here before too long. Look at that GORGEOUS cast (plus two producers and a director)! (*trying not to get a cramp while I pat myself on the back*) Click the photo to enlarge it. Wow! That's awesome.

Bad News:
My bad back is now worse. And in a different place. So it's like the place that was all "out" a week and a half ago is fine but a new place is "out." And I am sooooooo over that crap! I can't finish the organizing without being able to sit in the floor and dig through this crap all at once. Ugh!

Good News:
Ten days after being told that there's a six-week waiting period before new writers get a shot, my writing has been selected for the Naked Angels' Tuesdays@9 reading series on Tuesday the 23rd. I am beside myself with joy and panic. Please come out and show your support (and maybe read) if you're up for it. I'm sooo excited!

Bad News:
My great aunt has passed away. :( We were actually pretty close, as "great aunt/great niece" relationships go. I am very sad.

Good News:
A lovely romantic getaway is on tap for next weekend. I have never needed two solid days of spa treatments so much. Blisssssssssssss.

Bad News:
Fixing a Hole is now officially on hiatus. I just have no way of finishing the physical organizing now. And it's time to get back to work-work. I's got shit ta do!

Good News:
In the past 36 hours, I have slept 33 hours. (That's good news, right? It's certainly weird news.)

Yes, more good news than bad. That's how I roll.

Posted by bonnie at 7:42 PM | Comments (3)

October 18, 2007

Y'know what?

Screw it.

I'm so over trying that I'm just ready to declare, "I give the fuck up!"

Seriously.

This fixing a hole business is hard. It's hard. It's hard.

And the fact that the world doesn't back the fuck off while I'm doing some really important healing stuff just makes me mad.

And that's a part of the "hole" problem in the first place.

God, I love irony!

Posted by bonnie at 8:19 PM | Comments (3)

October 15, 2007

The Actors Voice, 10/15/07

Hi Everyone!

Here's how today's The Actors Voice starts out.

===========

Life as a Series Regular

Last week's Your Turn kicked off with the following email from a reader:

The question I have found myself wondering about lately is what the actual day-to-day life of an actor who is a star or series regular on a television show is like. We hear so much all the time about what life is like while chasing work but what about once you have gotten a really great job? I know it is hard to generalize because no two jobs are the same and each show is different, each role is different, each actor is different, but is there any way to get a good sense of what a daily, weekly, monthly, yearly schedule is like?

Well, just like we did with the popular On the Set column, I'm turning things over to the experts in this area: some of the most amazing actors I know--all of whom were willing to take the time to share a bit about what the series regular life is like. In addition to acknowledging the expertise from a few anonymously-participating network and cable series regulars, I need to extend a huge thanks to Twink Caplan (Clueless), Bob Clendenin (10 Items or Less), Sean Hankinson (Prom Queen), Valery M. Ortiz (South of Nowhere), Brian Palermo (Thank God You're Here), Anna Vocino (Free Radio), and Victor Williams (The King of Queens). Also, I'm ever grateful to Lindsay Hollister and Kathryn Joosten, whose contributions on regularly working in support of the series regulars rounds out this week's Your Turn. All of you, THANKS for bringing together such a wonderful collection of first-hand information and practical advice for actors everywhere!

===========

Continue reading this column NOW at Showfax.com.

As always, THANK YOU for reading!

And!!

Be sure to visit The Actors Voice: POV for the third POV in a four-part series from Prague-based CD, Nancy Bishop.

Woo hoo!

Cheers,
-Bon.
Live your dreams! If you don't, someone else will.

Posted by bonnie at 12:57 AM | Comments (0)

October 13, 2007

Where To Begin... (So Much. So, So Much.)

So, I've been fixing a hole for almost two weeks now. It's been intense. It's something I thought would take ten days to two weeks. Turns out it's gonna take more like three weeks. Or not quite. But something more than two weeks. That's for damn sure.

And while I'd like to blame the kitties (see below) or the effin' inevitable throwing out of my gawtdamn back AGAIN (see every few months for the past year, it seems, despite valiant efforts at diet and exercise to keep my back healthy), it seems I can't blame anything. This sort of effort simply takes as long as it takes. And in for a penny means in for a pound, like it or not. At least for me.

Day Five: Everything work-related is brought into the living room. I begin a life in the floor.

The goal is to put all things casting in one area, all things writing in another area, and all things speaking or producing or consulting or anything else related elsewhere.

Big chunks first. Then we further compartmentalize. And by "we," I mean "me," (or rather, "I," since grammatical correctness is important to me). As is hoarding, it would seem.

Day Six: Archie--totally useless. Surprise.

Also useless: Salema.

Unrepentantly useless: Thwok. Whore belly. Natch.

Day Seven: Oh, it looks like it's gonna be another day of solo efforts 'round here. (Bless our sad, dead orchids which Keith is sure he can fix.)

Again. Being judged. At this point, I realize it's been a week since I've left the house. That's not a problem, except that I feel I should have accomplished a LOT more.

Day Eight: A LOT more. I expected alphabetized spiceracks by now. And now my back is out. (See above.) I am so flippin' annoyed I can't see straight. I know it's from sitting in the floor for 20 hours at a time, but I'm pissed. How DARE my back go out on me?

The good news is, most all of my casting work is making it into binders. This should help a GREAT deal, as I field the bid requests that are coming in. (Yes. They keep coming in. I'm not complaining. I just owe like a half-dozen producers an answer. This will help.)

Okay, fine. On this note, I leave the apartment. Yes, even though my back is seizing up upon every tap of the brakes (yay for driving with the clutch), I leave. I go to the Naked Angels' Tuesdays@9 series (which I haven't been to since September 2004, when Blake proposed Acting Qs to me). I took my rejected spec script and three stand-alone scenes from the showcase and meekly, timidly handed them in, realizing that no matter how much one rocks at one level in this industry, there is always a place to start over and feel like a total newbie.

Day Nine: The binders are looking good. But I'm obsessed with both my back pain (and bonus cramps--yay menses) and something I learned last night: That someone I thought I knew took her own life since the last time I saw her, emailed with her, spoke with her. There's a chill in me that I can't shake, now.

Thwok is so in love with plastic bags. She's the exact opposite of the adult cats, who fear plastic of all kind. Anyway... I can't stop thinking about what makes someone commit suicide. And I guess I kind of know, having attempted it 17 years ago. Good lord, that was forever ago, wasn't it? Eesh.

These are the containers Keith brought home from Target. I am in love. ;) Still troubled. Still thinking about the woman I thought I knew. Still wondering what it is that makes anyone feel so alone, so troubled, so completely un-help-able in life that she will end it all. But then I also know that sometimes it's just a matter of one wave of thoughts. One cycle of "thinking better of it." One brush with perspective that can make anyone so very creative and tortured decide to choose to stick around. Man.

Why for the love of God do I have a thousand postcards? Why? Out they go. Well... all but a couple hundy, anyway.

Day Ten: I have accomplished something huge. I have found a way to put ALL of the Casting Qs, Acting Qs, and Acting Out raw materials into one, small file box. Everything else is in the trash. Phew! It's really exciting. PS--My back is now in such excruciating pain that I am crying out, constantly. Keith is beside himself with helplessness. I wish I had squirreled away a Vicodin somewhere. For the love of FUCK, I am in pain.

Thrilled that Keith bought so many bins. I'm using them both to sort and to ultimately create organization. Life is good. But I'm still in pain and I'm still troubled about the girl I thought I knew killing herself. Stop, stop, stop with the troubled feeling, Bon. You've got work to do. Oy, my back. Again, stop.

Oh, look at those lovely shelves! We are SO on the way. I am now splitting my non-organizing time between selecting book covers for the 3rd edition of Self-Management for Actors and wondering if I've gotten as far, emotionally/spiritually with my "fixing a hole" process as I have with the physical--again, wishing I were further along with all of the above.

I'm feeling good about what I've done so far, even though I still have a ways to go. I am very pleased to have only turned on my computer for an hour each day (doing most work from my BlackBerry--which I now refuse to name because I'm certain I will be replacing it with an iPhone in 2008, to go along with my November '07 black MacBook on which there will be absolutely no Microsoft products whatsoever if I have my way) but not at all pleased about living on the sofa, all propped up on pillows and reeking of BenGay (although it's actually something called BioFreeze, but you get the point). I seriously HATE that my body has to shut down when I want to get a lot done. It's such a battle. Good thing I'm stubborn.

Day Eleven: I've hit a wall. It's a stall. Can't do nothin'. Nothin' at all.

Good thing I have useless kitties to help me do nothing.

Such a good thing.

One more binder to finish... but the producers keep needing one last thing (even though I've been off the clock for over a month). Eesh. I'm sooo gonna start taking producer credits on these low budget projects. I really don't mind the mentoring, but man, it'd be nice to have it all be FOR something sometimes.

Day Twelve: I'm back in the floor. I'm playing with my favorite things: office supplies. I swear, my version of porn is the Office Depot catalogue. Let me loose at Staples or Office Max and you've unleashed a fiend.

Can't throw these zip disks and floppy disks away just yet. Keith's convinced that we will find a way to get the goods off 'em and burn 'em to our hard drives or DVDs or something... but I'm not sure that's gonna happen. Still, I'm not throwing away my cassette tapes either. I do have faith in that whole analog-to-digital transfer. It's all about time, really. Kind of like wedging into a really tight parking space. Given enough time, it'll happen.

New favorite box: my art supplies. Oh, how I miss that "minoring in art" part of my life! I really did create a lot of lovely things. I forget what an outlet that was for me. I guess writing has taken the place of that, now. But still, I do miss the smell, the feel, the thought of my charcoals and conté crayons.

Ah! How lovely is this bookcase shaping up?!? The writing and the casting is leaping into binders. The office supplies are in bins and boxes. Everything is labeled and clean... almost. Ooh, I somehow feel good despite the fact that I'm hunched over like an arthritic senior citizen. (I'm grumbling like one too.)

Trash--OUT! Out, out, OUT! This has been the funnest part: all the trash goes out, out, OUT! Several trips a day.

Cut to: another useless cat. *sigh* She is pretty, though.

Let's call it a montage of useless cat photos. I swear, these Archie photos were all taken on different days. He is THAT predictable. No wonder he and Keith get along so well.

And while I'm snapping photos of the useless animals, Keith says, "Do me." So, here he is too. Happy Nonaversary, m'love. :)

Oh, our Nonaversary. I did say I was going to explain that, didn't I?

Well, this blog post is already a record-holdingly long one and I have a buttload of work to get done this weekend, so I'll call this a bookmark to that story. I will share it. It's good. ;) And Keith and I even have a really cool spa/resort weekend trip planned for later this month to celebrate our Nonaversary, so maybe that's when I'll roll the tale out.

'til then, I guess this is just another of those "Fixing a Hole Progress Reports." I'm alive. I'm improving. I still have a great deal to do. And it's all gonna get done. I'm more patient with myself today than I have been. I think learning about someone I thought I knew having chosen to be impatient with life's solutions for how it's supposed to work out for her has inspired me to take my time with just about everything. It's the better choice, for damn sure.

Posted by bonnie at 2:36 AM | Comments (1)

October 10, 2007

My Mom's Tooth

I remember my brother being ridiculed by my mother for having stolen a car and getting in a head-on collision when he was a teenager, messing up the work those braces had done.

(When your parents are Depression-era, you're constantly reminded that it cost a hell of a lot to do things like fix your teeth.)

Sure, Mom was happy he lived through the crash (and Daddy was more mad about the car), but she was absolutely certain, from then on, that his "bad teeth" had everything to do with having wrecked his face.

My brother assured the family that genetics are a strong thing and that all he had was exactly his version of "Mom's tooth" that juts out and turns, just for fun. Of course, Mom was certain that it was the fault of teenage recklessness and that alone--as further evidenced by the fact that I had braces and, therefore, did NOT have that jutted out tooth. The end. Car wreck = messed up teeth. No car wreck = perfect teeth. Thank you, braces.

So, tonight I'm looking in the mirror and I see this tooth. It is my mother's tooth. Absolutely, positively, 100% my mother's tooth... right there on the right side of my mouth.

And I wore my braces and didn't total a car and even wore my retainer as directed by the orthodontist, well into my late teens.

But. I know this about my mother: If she were still alive right now, she would look at my mouth and say that I didn't treasure the gift that was the orthodontic experience she provided--as a single parent strapped for cash, grateful for the subsidized lunch program that allowed me to eat at least one full meal each day (even though it was usually a sloppy joe or fish sticks or overdone greenbeans with a slab of ham)--and that I clearly wasn't wearing my retainer for as many years as that damn thing would fit me.

And then my brother would enjoy being right.

I and then--and only then--I would say to my mom, "Y'know, you're right. If I had worn my retainer more, my teeth would still be straight."

That's what siblings are all about. Then, now, and forever.

Posted by bonnie at 12:05 AM | Comments (1)

October 7, 2007

The Actors Voice, 10/8/07

Hi Everyone!

Here's how tomorrow's The Actors Voice starts out.

===========

The Let-Down

So, you might recall that I was hinting around (but superstitiously not revealing too much) about a "big thing" for which I put myself "out there" a couple of months ago. Okay, well my plan was to have next week's column announce some splenderrifically delicious news about a new chapter in my writing life... but at this point (even though I haven't heard the official word that I'm not moving forward with this "big thing"), I'm thinking there's value in sharing where I am right now, which is absolutely certain I didn't make the cut.

I mean, even if by some miracle I am selected as one of only three writers in this year's Warner Bros. TV Comedy Writers Workshop within days of posting this column, the fact remains that right now, I'm suffering from something actors face every single day: the let-down.

===========

Continue reading this column in the morning, along with a Your Turn requesting a bit of help in putting together my *next* column (which will be all about life as a series regular) at Showfax.com.

As always, THANK YOU for reading!

Woo hoo!

Cheers,
-Bon.
Live your dreams! If you don't, someone else will.

Posted by bonnie at 6:56 PM | Comments (0)

October 5, 2007

Message Board Culture and Etiquette

[Note: This is a repost from the Showfax message board.]

Author: Bonnie Gillespie, Location: Hollywood, Posted: Fri Oct 05, 2007 10:10pm

(Showfax Bob, please feel free to move this is if you deem it appropriate. I just felt compelled to post this and figured the "Whatever" section might be the least controversial place. If you like it and want to make it a sticky admin post or something, knock yerself out.)

Now, before I launch into some long post about message board culture and etiquette, let me state for the record that I have been a member of many online forums (most of them acting related) for well over a decade and I have also been the admin/moderator of a handful of online forums (most of them acting related).

One of my favorite analogies about the "feel" of a message board comes from something I read a long, long time ago. I've seen it adapted and shared at many, many message boards over the years, but first read it back in the '90s (when I was in grad school for my PhD in Instructional Technology--I am *not* kidding--and studying online communities and their potential as sources of educational exchanges).

"Treat a message board like a cocktail party. If you walk up to a group of people who are already talking, be considerate that you are joining *their* party in progress, and even if the door to the party was wide open, for most first-time visitors, it's not like the party's host has invited you and walked you over to a group to introduce you around. You're coming in on your own and probably want to say a polite hello, introduce yourself, give a little context on why you might feel a certain way about a certain topic, and then jump in and join the debate already in progress."

I mention this because I notice that those who lurk for a while and then post a, "Hi. I'm posting for the first time, here. I've read the posts and I get that you guys have a lot of experience at a bunch of different levels. Here's my question and here's what I've already experienced--so you can get an idea of my starting point and what research I've already attempted," tend to get a much warmer reception, receive much more assistance from the regulars, and--amazingly--receive much more ON-TARGET advice than "others" (see more about "others" below).

Think about it. If you walked into a room where a group of people were talking--even if the debate was heated and emotional--and immediately started sharing your POV without any context, any means of introduction to the group, and a complete sense of expectation that everyone should respect your POV (as if they fully KNOW your previous experience level and "get" you, going in) with NO questions asked, you'd be considered a loon. Yet that happens on message boards EVERY day.

And the advantage really DOES go to the lurker-turned-poster, because he or she GETS the people who are already active members of the community. Those members, on the other hand, have NO context within which to understand that new poster. It's like seeing someone famous in public. You feel like you know them because you've seen their movies, you've read their interviews, you've had them into your home via the TV for years. Yet if you were to just start talking to them with no introduction, no background info, no, "Hi. Big fan. Excuse me a moment. Can I ask you a question," type lead-in--y'know, as if you're VERY intimately aware of who this person is--that would be odd. But it's WORSE if you also EXPECT that person to have an intimate awareness of YOU and where YOU come from and how YOU think.

The "others" I mentioned above are those who post for the first time without giving much context for the regulars to go on.

That--in and of itself--is not a BAD thing. It just causes the quality of early replies to be (at best) not terribly helpful.

But when the inevitable smackdown comes from the "new poster," there is always this indignant attitude of, "Don't you know who I am?!? Don't you know how much experience I have? How DARE you assume that just because this is my first post I don't have dozens of years of experience in the industry and a career you would covet if I actually bothered to post under my real name?"

And that is usually followed by a barrage of, "You guys are a bunch of meanies. You're a group of elitist snobs who are only out for yourselves. If a new poster comes in here and doesn't toe the party line, he or she is attacked and forced to storm off in a huff or prove that he or she can stand up to you mean, mean meanies."

Followed by a prompt exit or (hopefully) an attitude adjustment and a long, productive future on the message board, with a much better understanding of the culture and etiquette--because now he or she is a part of it.

Are we all going to get along?

No.

Even those of us who have been posting on this and other message boards together for YEARS don't all get along.

That's not what this post is about.

It's an attempt to encourage those of you who are posting for the first time (here or anywhere else, really) and who feel attacked or misunderstood or challenged for expressing strong opinions without any sort of context for whether the machismo is merited TO THINK OF THIS LIKE A COCKTAIL PARTY.

Of course, we all want to enjoy our time here. We may want to help others or get help from others. We may want to celebrate one another's accomplishments and enjoy one another's stories and encourage one another when we're on the low side of things.

But there is a bit of culture and etiquette to acknowledge and (hopefully) respect.

Posting without doing a SEARCH of existing posts first is like walking in and screaming, "WHERE IS THE ICE?" when the ice is in the area clearly marked "ice" and there's a sign on one of the other walls pointing to the ice. You've just interrupted a bunch of conversations to ask an easily-answered question (and made yourself look like someone who either can't read signs or can't be bothered to do such a thing--neither of which is a good first impression to make).

Posting as if you know everything about any topic without first sharing a bit about you and your credentials is like walking up to a group of people at the party and insisting you know everything about that topic "because I said so," and you're too cool or too important to be bothered with providing the backup that would get you INSTANT respect. Now... if you've neglected to share your credentials at the beginning of the dialogue, that's okay! You can include a link to your IMDB page or professional website in your PROFILE or within your posts' signatures. Consider that the same thing as at least wearing a nametag when you walk into the party so we know who we're dealing with. Want to check the credentials of those who are already regulars at this party? Check their profile, check their signature block, check previous posts in which they've given a great deal of "back story" on who they are and what their cred is.

Lurking is the same as watching the party from just outside. You can see and hear what's going on, but no one has the advantage of getting to know YOU in the same way. At first, you'll feel very familiar with the partygoers, because you know their style, you get their sense of humor, you know when someone is crossing a line and when that same someone is just teasing an old friend. Don't get mad when you're not given that same sense of "I get you" right away. How could the partygoers "get you" when you've been observing them and they've had no opportunity to observe you? Your sense of humor, your style, your POV are all brand new to the partygoers until you've been around awhile. Help 'em warm up to you by giving a little orientation to YOU before leaping right into the conversations and demanding the same level of respect those who were already conversing have for one another.

Getting a message board smackdown (or even a light reprimand or slap on the wrist) is nothing to make you run away in disgust. Think of it like a host telling you you've parked your car in front of a neighbor's driveway or asking you to use a coaster when you put down your drink. You've come into someone else's party and the host is very graciously providing you with munchies and drinks without asking you to chip in. And if a fellow partygoer is the one to ask you to use a coaster, don't get all huffy thinking that only the host can tell you you've committed a party foul. Just like at any party, having someone who has been there before warn you about parking in a towaway zone or suggesting that you use a coaster before the host freaks out on you is just a, "Hey, you're new to the party" courtesy. Some are more gruff than others in the way they may speak to you. That's life at the party and online.

One of my least favorite message board behaviors is something that is a little more difficult to put into the cocktail party analogy. It's the phenomenon I call "I'm gonna take my toys and go home!" Posters who have contributed to quite a few threads decide at some point that they're DONE with the message board. They're leaving the party. But first they're going to erase all evidence that they were ever there. They delete every post they've made. They trash entire discussions by removing all sense of context that existed when any other poster answered them, because now their original questions are gone. Unless the replying posters have QUOTED their original text, this behavior leaves holes in the "history" of the message board and really disrupts some very good discussions. I guess the best way to bring that to a party analogy would be if the party were a gift exchange and each attendee brought three gifts for the big tub of donations that were going over to the children's hospital later. And before this one poster decides to BOLT on the party, he runs over to the tub and fishes out all of the gifts he brought. Now they are gone. And worse, they were part of a WHOLE that is now somehow lacking. (Basically, it's like tearing pages out of a book that could inform and educate others for years to come. It's a dick move, based wholly in ego, and it's just plain rude.)

Coming in and selling a product or service in your very first post is like showing up uninvited to a party wearing a sandwich board and ringing a bell. You will either be ignored as "that crazy person in the foyer" or asked to leave. If you stay, you will be laughed at by some, ignored by some, and challenged by some. Of course, most shills show up at the doorstep, shout, "Buy my thing," and then run to the next party down the block, so this isn't an issue for most. But for those shills who like to check back and see how their post is doing a little later, this part of the etiquette list is for you. Earn the trust of your potential customers before you crash their party and yell at them, then call them idiots or sad, bitter skeptics for not throwing open their wallets for you.

One of the message boards I ran a few years back had three key "fixes" to problems I saw at other message boards. No non-registered user could lurk. So, basically, we had to know you were AT the party for you to have access to its goodies. Also, I disabled the edit/delete feature so that EVERYONE was accountable for what he or she said--no take-backs. No pretending that it never happened (heck, even here, your original post goes out on the RSS feed, so even after editing and/or deleting, the info is still "out there" for those of us who really geek out). And I required all members to sign up using their REAL names. I noticed at other message boards where this sort of thing was a requirement that the posters were far more respectful of one another when their true identity was known. Very little of the seriously childish, obnoxious message board behavior we see from time to time, when the members of the community were clearly identified.

But, hey, I don't run this message board (and the one I ran with those three "fixes" in place--I don't run anymore. And that should tell you something). Running a message board is a thankless, time-consuming, babysitting-like job for which there isn't enough time or energy in this kid to endure.

Just like hosting a big party, there's a lot of prep, there's a lot of drama among folks who want to get you all up in the business of everyone else who is there, stuff gets broken, and pretty much NO ONE stays to help you clean up when the party is over.

All this to say, please consider this place a fun little cocktail party to which you have open, anonymous access. Observing the general guidelines of its culture and etiquette is of course optional, but it's good to know what the deal is (I hope). Beyond that, saying thank you to our host Showfax Bob is probably the LEAST we can do.

(Psst--hey, Bob? Thank you.)

Posted by bonnie at 10:10 PM | Comments (0)

Hole Progress Report (or is it "Fix Progress Report"?)

Eh, whatever you call it, it's my way of letting y'all know I'm still alive, sincerely limiting my computer time (no, I wasn't kidding when I said it), and making lots of progress.

Easiest way to show that progress is via the physical manifestation of the inner work I'm doing. Like... eight bags of clothes, shoes, and handbags to Goodwill on Day One.

Only the most absolutely "urgent" items stashed on one-third of our sofa. This is where I have to start, when I'm officially "back at work" in a week or so.

End of Day One: I now only use one-third of my closet. And that's really nice. Who needs 200 pieces of clothing and 20 pairs of shoes, anyway?

Day Two: Somehow it's always ugliest while it's "in the midst" of the doing. It's gotta get gnarly before it gets prettied up. (Check back next week for that.) For now, there are all sorts of "sorting boxes" and "zones" in the house.

No longer will there be portions of my writing career in each room, casting files in three different places, financial papers stashed in five different corners. Nope. It's all "going together" now. What doesn't get tossed out, that is.

Day Three: Rockstar Intern Julie helps me purge about 250 demo reels. (Would you say 250, Julie? It felt like 250. Not sure.) She and Keith fished out DVD cases they wanted for their own reels and everything else hits the dirt. Sorry, awesome actors. If I can't find your reel online anymore, I don't need it. (Well, we did keep a FEW. Heh heh.)

Made Keith go through about 300 software CDs and told him at least HALF had to go. I mean, c'mon... what do we need with anything that runs on Windows NT or Mac OS 9 anymore? Oh... and does anyone know where I can donate the last two pairs of prescription glasses I ever owned before getting LASIK three years ago? (And, more importantly, why I would hold onto two pairs of glasses for now-perfect eyes for three whole years?)

Day Four: Purged VHS tapes and audio cassettes from who-knows-when and of who-knows-what. Have one large plastic bin filled with "master tapes" of things we want digitized. So... add that to the "when we have time" or "when we have money" project list, along with scanning thousands of photos. *sigh* I'm hoping for "when we have money" winning that battle... because I do not have the patience for some of these projects.

This is where we're left today. These (in front--next to all of the crap going to the dumpster) are all of my writing files--all in one place. Well, that's not true. Within five feet of this are another three boxes and within five feet of that are three large mail bins filled to overflowing. And then there's the box of "future columns" source material, plus a couple creative writing and spec script project material areas that are within reach.

Gotta get all of the writing stuff in one place (and segregated well enough to make it easy to access when I need any part of it). Ah, hell, as I type this, I remember one more box that's in the bottom of the linen closet, filled with original interviews from Casting Qs. Gotta get that together with the rest of the bunch.

Anyway, that's my external check-in about a third of the way through my Getting My House in Order project (and "house" also means "heart." Believe me, there's not a day I haven't cried buckets while working on all of this--and watching DVDs in the den (the TiVo-free room) of things like "for your consideration" episodes of my favorite Emmy-nominated TV series and amazing movies. Bless the Academy).

Casualties of Schedule include one meeting at SAG, one speaking engagement at SAG Conservatory at AFI, one private screening of a friend's kick-ass film (and getting to connect with my Westside Happy Hour Posse), one amazing actors showcase, and hundreds upon hundreds of unanswered emails (I never count the dozens of unreturned phone calls. That's typical).

Enjoy: folks emailing to say, "Just hi. Thinking of you," with no pressure whatsoever. Don't enjoy: "Um, what's going on? Why haven't I heard from you about this? Are you or are you not free to come give us four hours of your time in November? Answer me, dammit!" when I've already made contact to say, "Hey, taking some downtime. November will probably work, but give me a couple of weeks to get back to you on the for-sures." Grr. A sense of entitlement (especially entitlement to the time, mind, and spirit of another person) is an ugly, ugly thing.

Bottom Line (as of the end of the first-third of this, anyway): less computer time = awesome, less TV time = unnoticed, less public/social time = necessary, less access given to others = essential, less crap in the house = amazingly revitalizing, less bullshit in me = on its way.

I remain a work in progress.

(I'll post again on Sunday night to promo the column. Nothing too exciting or Earth-shattering. Saving that stuff for my real life right now.)

Posted by bonnie at 8:32 PM | Comments (3)

October 1, 2007

Fixing a Hole

It's like magic when this happens. (And it doesn't happen often.)

I'm sitting in the little-used den. I'm cuddled up under the quilt my mom made for me. I'm sobbing with overwhelm.

Then I think about what it would take to feel "back in order." (Or at least "on the mend.")

A-ha! Mental health break it is.

So, I'm off. I'm fixing a hole. It's an important one. Sorry 'bout all the cancelling I'm doing to fix this. Not optional. See y'all on the other side (in a week or so).

I'm fixing a hole where the rain gets in
and stops my mind from wandering
where it will go
I'm filling the cracks that ran though the door
and kept my mind from wandering
where it will go

And it really doesn't matter if I'm wrong
I'm right where I belong
I'm right where I belong
See the people standing there
who disagree and never win
and wonder why they don't get in my door

I'm painting my room in a colorful way,
and when my mind is wandering
there I will go

And it really doesn't matter if I'm wrong
I'm right where I belong
I'm right where I belong
Silly people run around
they worry me and never ask me
why they don't get past my door

I'm taking my time for a number of things
that weren't important yesterday
and I still go

I'm fixing a hole where the rain gets in
and stops my mind from wandering
where it will go
where it will go
I'm fixing a hole where the rain gets in
and stops my mind from wandering
where it will go

©1967 Lennon/McCartney
Click here to listen for yourself.

Posted by bonnie at 3:07 PM | Comments (3)