Time to Fess Up

I was just told that I’m not as happy as I think I am.  That floored me.  I mean, aren’t we exactly as happy as we think we are?

I actually spend much of my day enjoying it.  I share that with the rest of the world because the newness of true happiness, at times, is overwhelming.  Many of the people that I share these moments with have, virtually or literally, walked beside me as I pulled myself out the funk that I had, not long ago, found myself consumed by. 

I choose not to broadcast the worst parts of my day, not to appear as if my life is perfect, but to spend more time appreciating the good parts than dwelling on the bad.  To be fair, I should probably be more honest with my struggle to stay positive when faced with failure and uncertainty.  I’ve always told it like it is; so I guess its time to fess up.

Two years ago I did a commercial for a large hospital that was directed by the multi-Oscar nominated, Caleb Deschanel.  It was thrilling.  I waited weeks to watch my cheesy mug on the small screen and the night before the spot was scheduled to air the casting director emailed me to tell me they had pulled the piece.  No explanation except that it ‘had nothing to do with your performance’.  Suuure, I thought and proceeded to cry myself to sleep.  My husband was away on business, but after hearing my incoherent voice mail, wrote me the loveliest email telling me that I would laugh about it one day after experiencing the amazing things I was sure to accomplish.  I saved that email.

And I do laugh now.  I really do.  After years of watching my special needs sons defeat the odds, and then writing, producing and directing a movie of my very own those tears seemed silly.  But they were well worth crying.  They helped stoke the fire, which constantly burns, pushing me to try harder, again and again.

I wrote a book about my sons.  I queried hundreds (I’m serious), hundreds of agents.  I received some interest, but nothing ever came of it.  That doesn’t mean it never will.  They all told me the same thing, “Would be a much easier sell if you were famous.”  Ok then.  I’m working on it. 

I made two more short films and have submitted them to dozens of film festivals.  Yes, I announce when the films are accepted, but admittedly, that’s only about 10% of the time, if that.  I received three rejections in one day last week.  Instead of throwing them in the garbage, I put them in my ‘festival folder’ to remind myself that I tried.

My youngest son has cerebral palsy.  He has setbacks.  He has been through medical procedures that would curl the toughest toes to watch but no one needs to feel that pain when what comes from his pain is the absolute joy of witnessing when things go right.

We’re all aloud to have bad days.  Happy people have bad days.  The reason that they are happy is that they know that ‘bad’ is temporary.  The weight of rejection, pain or failure fuels the happy instead of dragging them down.  Happiness isn’t a temporary state of mind; Happiness is a lifestyle that requires acknowledging that you are willing to do the work to make tomorrow a better day.

A very wise filmmaker, Karen Lam, once said, “I put out so many feelers that I don’t even realize how often I’m rejected.”  I couldn’t agree more.  I can’t remember how many lines I’ve cast but I can’t wait to see what I catch tomorrow.

Unnoticed No More

Autism, shmautism, my son gets his first IMDb!

I vividly remember the day my son Dane’s physical therapist pointed out that there was an elephant standing in the middle of our living room.  We had all been so busy concentrating on Dane’s cerebral palsy diagnosis that the adorable, curly blond headed boy, full of autistic tendencies, staring at the TV screen, spinning in circles, seemed to go unnoticed.  But when our eyes were opened, and we processed the situation, my beautiful son, Jett, went unnoticed no more.

He was a textbook spinning, rocking, stacking, non-verbal, no eye contact, and fits of endless rage kinda kid.  This happened, just like the research predicts, after 20 ‘typical’ months of having a happy, smiling, dancing, loving child.  With devastation came realization.  Acceptance brought therapy, and lots of it.

Two years passed and each day got better.  We hunkered down.  We did the work.  Jett progressed but his odd tendencies remained.  He would focus on something SO HARD that it was an obsession.  I kept thinking, “If only that power could be used for good.”  I knew, one day, it would.

Pre-school came and went.  Jett was incredibly bright and learned to read early.  He wasn’t so keen on other children but he would find a captivating subject or task and put everything he had into it.  Creative endeavors: paint, crayons, clay became his closest friends.  Everyone marveled at his passion and intensity. 

By the time Jett hit kindergarten the angry fits had stopped.  He was starting to play with other children.  Jett began taking an interest in what his family was doing and wanted to be a part of things, a part of us.  As a filmmaker and parent of two special needs children I couldn’t have been more thrilled.  I would never discourage any of my children’s interests (barring anything illegal!) but watching both of my boys become inspired by the arts made me more proud than I ever thought I could ever be.

I had begged Jett to be in all of my films.  My younger son, Dane, cerebral palsy diagnosis and all, is a huge ham and loves his time in front of the camera.  Jett refused me for two years.  But, knee deep in kindergarten, he asked me if he could make a movie of his own.  At that particular moment we were about to have dinner.  I quickly showed him my favorite stop motion film, WESTERN SPAGHETTI by PES, gave him a quick, two-minute tutorial and then went into the kitchen to eat.  Just moments after we’d finished, a very excited Jett came rushing into the kitchen, with his Grandmother’s cell phone, and declared that he had made a film, PEOPLE WHO BURY ANIMALS.  

I reluctantly grabbed my mom-in-laws phone assuming that he had just randomly snapped a bunch of pictures that she would need to spend the next hour trashing, but what I found was a film, an actual film!  It wasn’t perfect.  It wasn’t as detailed as Jett had envisioned, but dammit, it was a film.  I got all teary eyed, showed my husband, and said “Edit this for him… now!”  Jett watched excitedly as Daddy downloaded his ‘footage’ into our editing software, and rightly so, didn’t change a thing.  He added titles, music and credits only.  Jett was very verbal about the fact that the music needed to be creepier.  Maybe we’ll change that for the director’s cut some day.

When Daddy was done we announced Jett’s filmmaking debut to the world via facebook and Jett proudly watched as our friends and family showered him with compliments.  His eyes shone with confidence every time he’d see another ‘like’.  I decided to send PEOPLE WHO BURY ANIMALS into a local film festival on the off chance that they might be willing to throw my little guy a bone.  Unfortunately, they chose one of my shorts but not Jett’s.  

I had another ‘No doubt I’m a mother moment’ when realizing I would have traded places and rejection notices with my son in a heartbeat.  But I understand that festivals can’t indulge everyone and this would still be a great experience for the boys, as they had never been quite ready to attend a festival with me.

A few weeks later, just days before the festival, I was trolling my own IMDb page, checking on some recent updates, and noticed an extra ‘Producer’ credit.  To my great surprise, there it was, a producer credit for PEOPLE WHO BURY ANIMALS.  I about died.  I had applied 13 times to get an IMDb for my first film, but there it was, in black and white, my son’s movie, with his own director credit to boot.  Jett proudly, and loudly, read his name and synopsis.  I cried again.  

It’s been a long road.  I had always seen the light, but sometimes it was dim and seemed just slightly out of reach.  Moments like this defy description.  They are magical, inspiring and life changing.  Jett came to the festival, enjoyed the other films and joined me on stage for Q&A afterwards, this coming from a child who had refused to remain in a room with strangers for the first three years of his life.  Moments that seem sweet to others are genuinely momentous to me.

Jett continues to amaze me and has now asked if he can make a ‘real’ movie with ‘real’ people.  I can’t wait to help him make that happen.  He’s even agreed to act in my next film.  Something tells me, one day, I’ll be asking to be in his.  

It’s Never Too Late – How a Day on Set Set Me Free

I’ll admit it. I had given up on film, forever.  I was 37, had two toddlers with special needs, found myself living in the middle of Central Pennsylvania and handled mindless data entry for my husband’s family business.  My high haired, heavily made-up, mini-skirt wearing days were over.  I traded in auditions for doctor’s appointments and pageants for Pampers.  I wrote letters to medical assistance instead of writing screenplays.   I merely existed in a self-imposed, parental prison until one day, a film set set me free.

A friend was looking for extras to appear in the Bradley Cooper Blockbuster ‘Limitless’ (Dark Fields as it will always be affectionately known to all us crazy extras).  My husband encouraged me to submit my photo.  I laughed and stated, “I can’t.” - me, a born spotlight seeking show pony claiming immediate defeat.  I couldn’t even recall having muttered those words before. But there they were, dangling in the air like embarrassing, old Christmas lights you’re just too tired to take down.  

My children’s young and enthusiastic home health aide, Maya, proceeded to berate me for what seemed like an eternity.  “You should do this. It’ll be fun.  I’ll take your picture!” she squealed excitedly.  “You always tell the boys that they can do anything they put their minds to.”  

Ugh.  There it was, the awful truth.  I had been preaching to them for years.  My son Jett, diagnosed with autism, I had told could be president one day and my beautiful little boy Dane, born with cerebral palsy, I had promised would walk if it killed me.  But there I sat, devoid of MY dreams.  All I had left was theirs.  In that single moment I understood the true weight of ‘Leading by Example’.  

Searching the house for a blank wall to pose against, we held an impromptu photo shoot.  Maya taught me to pose just as she had learned on the ‘Tyra Banks Show’.  I felt 37.  I uploaded the picture and we waited.  The phone rang.  I felt 17.  To my surprise, the news was good.  

The next 24 hours were a whirlwind of excitement.  I barely made it to the local Target to shop for a ‘muted’ wardrobe, whatever that meant.  Why had I always assumed all Targets were open 24 hours?   My husband mapped my way including a satellite picture of the parking lot I was instructed to park in.  At a very cold, dark, three o’clock in the morning, I awoke (as if I’d even slept!) to make the long three-hour trek to Philly.  The teamsters and I had a 6am call time and no way was I going to be late!

The day was a magical blur of lights, camera and action.  I fell right back into my genuinely excitable, Midwestern “Hi! Nice to meet you!” mode.  Bet it was hard to identify the newbie huh?  I was so excited to be there and so sad for the twenty something’s that already seemed so burnt out.  Just wait til they had to stay up with a crying infant all night.  They’d learn what burnt out really is!

Bradley Cooper was friendly, gorgeous and always just out of arms reach.  (Well you can’t be greedy when that experience alone is enough to change your life forever!)  I was thrown into the back of a cab with another extra and came out with a fast friend.  Not the kind of friend that you find on facebook and then never see again, but the kind that becomes a part of who you are.  

After several arguments with my GPS, and an excited, most likely incomprehensible phone call to my sleeping mother, I drove home with an insatiable fire in my belly.  My family greeted someone else at the door that night.  Someone better.   My mother-in-law looked knowingly at me and said, “You’re going to do this again, aren’t you?”

I woke up the next morning and made an appointment to have headshots taken.  I wrote a resume, combed Craig’s List, scheduled auditions and quickly landed roles in several features.  I was actually directed by Caleb Deschanel in a Health Care commercial!   Best of all, I began writing again.

I leapt out of bed each morning.  My energy seemed boundless.  Not even six months later I had been tortured, dismembered, disrobed, disembodied, clubbed, slashed, electrocuted, had a pie thrown in my face… and loved every second of it.   Unfortunately, the three-hour drive to the big cities was killing me (literally this time!)

I decided to take charge and take chances.  Why keep going to bright lights?  I would bring them to me!  I had never felt so fearless or been so happy.  I was older, wiser and I had Google!  Less than a year later my husband and I created our own production company.  I wrote, produced and directed my own feature film.  On December 3rd 2011, CAVEAT premiered to almost 700 people and we are beginning a festival tour next month. 

My husband served as the graphic designer, web developer, music supervisor, and technical advisor and in the eleventh hour filled in as my lead male ‘Jeremy’.  His reviews have been fantastic! (In all fairness, he had a great director).  My mother-in-law was our production accountant, my father-in-law our executive producer and original score composer.  My four-year-old son Dane wears his “Wagon Pullee” IMDb credit proudly and enthusiastically asks when Mommy is going to make another movie because he, of course, will be starring in it (he’s actually a featured character but please don’t tell him that!).  Group 13 has already started production on that very movie, POINTLESS. 

I wish I could bottle the energy that I was transformed by that day.  I often hear “How in the world did you make all that happen in such a short time?”  The answer is actually quite simple.  Live each moment as if it were already a memory.  I’ve made it my mission to show my boys that with confidence, creativity and surrounding yourself with talented people, anything is possible. No matter where you are, who you are or how old you are never ever, give up.