Saying NO has recently become easier for me.

Do you know what's been tougher lately? Saying YES.

It was my 46th birthday this week. I took advantage of some vacation time with accumulated airline points to finally enjoy after a three-year delay. Thanks again, Covid and Ida.

To use this rare time to the full, my ‘mid-life revival, international writing group’ and I decided not just to prep our online pitch as planned but to pitch a TV show idea IRL (proposal/synopsis complete with a full outline of 13 shows for one or two series/seasons that's been redone multiple times in meetings on Zoom during COVID's two and a half year entrapment) to an intimidating group of producers and the assistant to a showrunner my nerdy ass just happens to idolize. This was a spontaneous-ish decision. I’m a planner by nature and almost said no.

Essentially we were set to do it all online since we were delegates of the screenwriter festival and unable to attend due to quarantine. All a ‘go’ for the online meeting, but it felt right to make the effort to be there with each other in person since we all could…why not just say YES and do it?

You only get one life, and I’m stressed and middle-aged. I couldn't say NO. I mean I could've because stuff at work and coparenting manuevers are hard and blah, blah, blah…but I shouldn't have.

So…

Summary:

It was a whirlwind day for me in London after flight delays in Dallas that cut way too close to the meeting time. The meeting was miraculously pushed back, and I made it in time. Out of 4 meetings they had that day, we were of the group they politely rejected. I was encouraged to submit again for upcoming season market appetites and to set up later on my own with the agent who was there for one of the group members (having an agent is new for me, but we'll see how it goes).

The 4-year group project is now dead (the originator of our group idea came undone during the pitch and was a little less than gracious about the points raised, in my opinion, so, you know…sigh), but our individual ideas are being pursued…individually.

This was my prediction anyway en route, and as it came to pass IRL, I was at peace and prepared. I got advice from (I can't call this person ‘my new agent’ yet, so I’ll call them what they were to me…) a super nice person I hope will be my agent when I get my shit together about my two ideas and how to resubmit packages that would be taken seriously.

Rephrase: I got GREAT advice on how to shoot MY OWN shot.

I put the nice agent and relocation service person’s cards in my pocket and learned more about their particular market needs from some very nice studio assistants in a few precious minutes, and promptly set appointments on the calendar for follow-up.

I then spent a few days in Europe to enjoy my birthday. (Yes. I planned it that way 😏) One of the group and I had become friends over all that rewriting/Zoom meeting time, so they joined me for a couple of days. I stayed in Kent and France, and they agreed to hop around with me and show me a good time.

And they did.

So, now that you're caught up on enough of that…

London was a blur, but Kent was a treasure. I fell in love with Sissinghurst and Cranbrook while visiting Vita's garden and castle. I was able to make a lecture given by a black woman doctor/Royal Garden architect and speak to (and geek out with) workers of the National Trust for a bit about Vita's letters to Virginia (more on my black, gay, modernized idea of that love story later 😉)

I love everything about an English pub, but that cute little thing I visited within walking distance from my studio there in Sissinghurst was extra special. I stopped at the ‘offy’ for wine and supplies and walked up the ‘other’ side of a village road, trying not to get hit by small English smart cars or Range Rovers swinging around.

It was so lovely. The peace. The solitude. The property owners’ attention to detail and guest care.

It was the perfect place to wander and wonder and write for a burned-out, middle-management weary, middle-aged woman with way too much on her mind.

Then, I went to Bordeaux, the city I didn't know I needed in my life until I was there.

Words escape me - but I tried anywhere, linked here and below. I made a rambling video, and I sound as dumb as a girl with a crush on someone who has no idea she exists. I spent a whole day at Cite du Vin. No guilt. None. The graffiti, y’all. Art is in every corner, while the city has cranes in the sky. So inspiring. I’ll be back there as soon as I can.

And, since I was coming back home through France anyway…

Of course, I stopped in Paris on my way home.

Of course, I went to the Louvre.

Of course, I didn't do anything ‘obviously’ American to embarrass myself or the nation I had misgivings about.

And, of course, my four years of grade school French resulted in gorgeous young French women giggling and mocking my attempt to say ‘good night’ while getting off the lift. (I’ll speak with my 8th grade French teacher about that and her NOT preparing me for the world as she promised.)

I can understand and read WAY more French than I can speak…properly, anyway.

It culminated into a ‘Franglish’ for the remaining days there. Everyone who worked anywhere I visited in France looked like runway models between gigs, so I didn't want to shame myself further. My Norway-bound writer friend only met me in France for one day. But while she was with me, she taught me phrases like ‘Excuse my shame. I said that incorrectly’ and ‘I’m trying to understand, forgive my broken French"‘ so that it was clear I wasn't one of THOSE Americans - I was a Francophile comedian who truly meant well, hailing from a sister city. The only thing I imported myself in the perfect vernacular was that I was from the States and lived in New Orleans (Je viens des États-Unis. J'habite a la Nouvelle Orleans.), that I was a writer, and I drink. (J'avais bu. Je suis écrivain.)

I did alright.

Met so many people interested in my plans and ideas, offering me chances at things…things I’ve only dreamed about the last decade of my life that I never thought would happen. It’s clearer to me what I need to pursue.

My birthday gift to myself during all this seems to have been

CLARITY.

I now know how I want to spend this last half of my life. I’m grateful for having become more acquainted with what I think I want (Lordess KNOWS I’ve spent enough years clear on what I DON’T want anymore). I have the space and freedom to consider how to give my kid and myself a life I've only dreamed about till now.

This is massive.

All because I said yes.

HBD2Me.

~T